


Whisper Through The Chrysalis

by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened



Series: Heir to the Dark [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Cannibalism, Crossover, Hannigram - Freeform, Jedi, Jedi Council - Freeform, Jedi Training, Light Side, M/M, Murder, Sex, Sith, Slow Burn, Smut, Star Wars - Freeform, Star Wars AU, Wendigo, all that good stuff to come, dark side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-09 20:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 74,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforethedawn/pseuds/beforethedawn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstructFairytales/pseuds/ConstructFairytales, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destinyawakened/pseuds/Destinyawakened
Summary: Will Graham's been reassigned, again, to a new Master--This one is slightly less ethical than the others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand We're back.  
> Light editing. We don't know all the Star Wars terms, so forgive us if something is named wrong. We're taking liberties! Enjoy.

The Jedi temple, while peaceful, rumbled with a current of unsettled concern as an infamously difficult Padawan approached the council. Even Master Yoda appeared to stifle a long-suffering sigh as Will Graham, a human Padawan of around twenty years, stepped in front of them, and stood before their judgment in simple robes. “Padawan Graham,” Master Crawford said, from his seat, “not very good with eye contact, are you?”

“Nope,” Will answered, eyes scanning everywhere in the room but the Masters in front of him. He’d done this a few times before already, he wondered who’d they stick him with next.

“Rejected you have been as padawan by _another_ Jedi Knight, Will Graham,” Master Yoda said, with a shake of his head. “Stubborn, he said you were, unwilling to draw your weapon when required were you. Refused to look him in the eye, you did. Hmm… What have you to tell us?”

“I have other means of fighting.” Will sighed, this time watching the Masters as they exchanged weary looks. “I’m still alive. I haven’t needed it.”

“You can’t mind-trick your way through every situation, Will,” Master Crawford grumbled, frowning down at Will. “You have talent, but we can’t put you out there if you’re going to refuse to learn from a master, or if you’re going to refuse to defend yourself!”

“To the service corps, perhaps?” Jedi Master Chilton mused, with a tilt of his head as they looked at Will like he was a specimen displayed before them, something soon to be used as a cautionary tale for future generations. “Wasted his gifts would be,” Yoda sighed, heavily, and stepped down from his seat to walk closer to Will. He smacked Will in the shin with his cane so that Will would crouch, and looked into his face with ancient eyes. “Know this, you do. Yes, yes … Much you see in others, Will Graham, see as much in yourself, we wish you could.”

On his knees in front of Yoda, Will lifted his gaze to finally look him in the eye, frowning. “I haven't liked the Masters you’ve given me. They don’t understand.”

The other Masters gasped, offended, and Yoda burst out laughing. “ _Like_ them you do not? _Understand_ they do not?” He stopped laughing, and shook his head at Will, gravely, and stepped closer.

“Unstable you are, Will Graham. Young and reckless you can be, but strong with the Force are you. Yes, yes. Very strong, a raw power you have.” Yoda tapped Will’s chest with his cane, twice.

“Friends with your Master, you are not to become. Learn from them to _master_ _yourself_ , you must … or no longer a Jedi can you become. _One_ more chance we will give you. Fail, and to the service corps, must you go. Understand, do you?”

Will bit his tongue, keeping back the quip about his mental state, finding it best right now not to push his luck. He nodded his head. He wanted a Master like he saw with other Padawans, but he couldn’t find it in himself to trust any of them when he saw into them better than anyone else. “I understand.”

Master Crawford stood and approached Will as Master Yoda resumed his seat. “We have someone willing to take a chance on you, Will. He’s highly respected, and hopefully, he can keep you in check long enough for you to learn a thing or two.” Crawford went to the door and opened it, nodding politely at someone outside, beckoning them in.

Back on his feet, Will kept his head down and rolled his eyes. He muttered a ‘yes, sir’ and waited, not sure what to think of the new Knight or Master they were going to put him with. Even before the man entered, Will felt his presence as it washed over him, like a heavy blanket.

A tall, lean man in well-kept, grey robes strode into the council with a gracious nod to Master Crawford, who returned the nod. The new Master had ashy, straight hair, which was tied back elegantly, not a strand out of place, and clear amber eyes that focused on Will, immediately, as though dumbstruck at first glance. “Will Graham, Master Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal has trained students before, successfully, he’s graciously decided to take you on, give you a chance.” Crawford said as Lecter recovered smoothly from the momentarily stunned state that meeting Will had sent him into.

Will tilted his head toward Lecter with respect. “Thank you for… taking me on.”

The sun streaming through the council chamber windows lit Hannibal’s skin with a tawny glow, and he smiled at Will, nodding back to him as he stared. “The pleasure is mine,” Hannibal said, with a cultured voice. His accent was different than Will’s own, and his manner in the chambers impeccable. “With the council’s leave, perhaps we can adjourn and speak privately. I do not wish to monopolize the council’s valuable time.” The members of the council all regarded Hannibal with admiration, some of them even looking chagrined at the mismatch of their most troublesome padawan, and this deeply respected Jedi. “Of course, Master Lecter. I wish you great _luck_ ,” Master Chilton, seated at the end of the long row murmured. “I doubt very much we will require it. I believe Will and I will make a fine team, indeed.” Hannibal said, and opened the door with a wave of his hand, beckoning for Will to come with him.

With some unease, Will followed the Jedi Knight out of the room and into the halls where people chattered and walked around them. “Why did you decide to take me on?”

Hannibal smiled to himself as they walked through the highly arched hallways, admiring their form as Master and Padawan passed beneath them. “Not one for social niceties, are you, Padawan?” Hannibal asked, with an amused lilt to his voice.

Aware he would not get his question answered, Will sighed, keeping up with Hannibal’s long stride. “Just Will.” Off a look, he rolled his eyes. “ _Please_.”

“Will,” Hannibal said, softly, as though testing the feel of Will’s name on his lips. He opened another door with a wave of his hand, and they stepped out, onto a wide balcony, headed for the staircase that led down. “Master Crawford is aware that I am rather fond of challenging cases. He told me of your abilities. Tell me, Will, do you dream often of the things you see in the minds of those around you?” If Will preferred to dispense with small talk, Hannibal was willing to do the same, and skip ahead to the meat of the matter.

“I dream of a lot of things. Vividly.” Will followed with a huff, already finding that he might not like this one, but there was something in Lecter that was strange and stirring, pulling on his senses to search for more.

“You see more than you ever wanted to in those you pass on the street, in your fellow students, in the council members themselves,” Hannibal said, over his shoulder as they descended the stairs together to a tarmac where a small personal ship waited for them. Hannibal stopped outside of it, and turned to face Will, almost trapping him with his gaze. “Is it easier to forgive weakness in other Padawans than in the council, Will? Easier to imagine the young may still grow beyond petty greed and moments of selfish rage, or have you given up hoping after what you’ve seen in those who have been selected to lead us?”

Someone finally saw right through Will, into the darkest corners of his mind, which made him take a step back, swallowing. He put up a mental block, doing his best to try and keep the Master out. “Ignorance is bliss, isn’t that what they say?”

The block was felt, and met with a gentle nudge as Hannibal stepped closer to Will. The block itself told him how to move beyond it just as the structure of a door told Hannibal where to grasp to open it. “In your case, and mine, ignorance is a quiet pool in which to submerge oneself; peaceful, sterile, but without room to breathe. Would you rather be lifeless and peaceful, Will? It is easy to imbue drowning with a touch of romance until the first lungful of water. I’m told it’s a harrowing, suffocating death.”

Barely there, under the surface of Hannibal’s mind was an image of a man, held under the surface of a stream by two strong hands around his neck. The thrashing man gasped in lungfuls of water, and choked violently until he went still. It was anything but peaceful.

The ship's door opened and Will stepped in to avoid looking at his new Master, but even still he felt more than he intended, saw more than perhaps he was meant, but said nothing. A darkness crept around his eyes, fogging his sight for a moment. “I’d rather wade in it.”

“Are you from a planet with plentiful water, Will?” Hannibal asked, following Will onboard. “I sense nothing of Jaku, or Tatooine in your particular sort of interpersonal grit.” Hannibal led Will to the cockpit at the front of the sleek ship and gestured for him to take a seat in front of a set of controls.

“Scarif. Lots of water there,” Will answered and took the seat, checking the switches and controls, and then warmed her up. “I have to fly you around too?”

“I’m quite capable of flying myself,” Hannibal chuckled, and looked at the bristling young man next to him, thoughtfully. No, Will was not a creature grown in endless sand-dunes. “Have your other Masters employed you as a pilot, and nothing more?”

“Sometimes.” Will flipped a few more switches and the ship rose, doors closing. “Where are we going?”

“What a waste of your diplomatic charms,” Hannibal quipped, his eyes twinkling, playfully. “We are headed to the other side of Coruscant.”

Hannibal watched Will’s profile against the landscape of the dense, gleaming city planet. Will’s nose had a slope to it that Hannibal was certain was mathematically perfect.

A few more switches were flipped and they were off, into the sky, out of the atmosphere. The fastest way around to the other side was to avoid the skyline traffic. Will felt Hannibal’s eyes on him and tried to settle that warm warning feeling in his stomach. “That’s not very specific.”

Hannibal’s long, slender fingers pressed a few buttons, and co-ordinates flashed onto a screen. “There you are. Did you know of the ruins beneath our temple?” Hannibal asked, conversationally, averting his curious gaze from Will for the moment.

“I’ve heard rumors. I’ve never been.” Will glanced over at Hannibal with a look, and then navigated them toward their new destination, making their way around the planet, and back into the atmosphere.

“The Jedi temple was built atop the ruins of an ancient Sith temple,” Hannibal explained, and felt Will’s hard-won glance as their ship flew over the maze of gleaming buildings. “It has always fascinated me that the Jedi temple could have been constructed on virgin ground, free of any dark influence. Instead, with triumphant zeal, our ancient predecessors chose to cling to the relics of darkness left behind, to build directly over what was once the dark heart of the Sith. The ancient stones are still in place beneath the temple to this day. With your astounding sensitivity, have you ever been able to feel their presence, Will?”

“The darkness is around us all. It’s as much a part of the Force as the light is. If you’re asking if I’ve felt the spirits of the long since dead sith lords,” Will gave a little shrug, he’d been told to keep those sorts of findings to himself before, “maybe.”

“I can’t imagine your former Masters would appreciate that revelation as much as I do, Will,” Hannibal murmured, gazing at Will’s profile again. His eyes looked through Will’s shaggy, dark curls and to the small braid near his neck.

“I told one of them once, and he told me to never speak of it again. So I don’t and I haven’t.” Will pulled them into the traffic and passed it toward a docking ramp. He set the ship down, slowly, with ease, not a bump.

“Your experience as a chauffeur is evident,” Hannibal quipped with a gleam in his eyes. “Thank you, Will.” He waited a moment, considering Will. “Faith is only strongest when it has been examined from every angle. I doubt your previous Master’s faith in the way of the Jedi was sufficient to survive even the slightest contradiction. There are too many among us without a sense of nuance.”

Rolling his eyes, Will stood and palmed the panel by the door to drop the ramp. “You’re saying that I should be looking at every aspect of the Force and not just the Light? The other Masters would all disagree with you.”

“I’ve never been afraid of disagreement,” Hannibal said, serenely, and followed Will from the ship and into a residence. The door unlocked and opened to the touch of his hand, lights flickering to life. “Welcome home, for the time being.”

“Planning to be rid of me soon?” Will quipped, hands clasped in front of him as he followed a pace behind.

“Certainly not,” Hannibal assured Will as he stepped inside. The door closed behind him, and Hannibal held a hand out to take Will’s cloak. “We may be called away, I have to travel, frequently. As my padawan, you’d accompany me, of course.” The residence was simplistic enough to suit a Jedi Master but was imbued with a sense of symmetry and elegance that gave it beauty beyond what one might expect. Will’s good looks were only enhanced by the grace of his surroundings, Hannibal observed. “Where have you traveled with your other Masters?”

“Not far. Never past the core planets,” Will answered, looking around the place, seeing all sorts of pieces of his new Master in the simplicity, and yet nothing at all. A veneer for something more? Perhaps.

Hannibal’s residence was filled with light tones, and polished, but natural wood. The furniture and few decorations were, however, impeccably made, obviously of great quality. “I’m certain we’ll go much further together,” Hannibal said while he gazed at Will with meaning, and decanted a bottle of something dark, then offered a glass to Will.

Will took the glass and sniffed it, wrinkling up his nose a little. His eyes locked with Hannibal for a moment as he sipped on it, surprised that it didn’t taste as it smelled. “Do they send you out often? Or… us now, I guess.”

Hannibal’s warm eyes cataloged the way Will’s nose wrinkled, watching him over the rim of his glass with something that approached wonder at his Padawan’s surprising beauty and strange, rough charm. “That depends on the events as they unfold. I have become an unwitting expert in keeping the peace after particularly gruesome events.” “Sounds harrowing.” Will took another sip, the second better than the first, but then held the glass in his hands, letting the liquid coat his mouth completely. “But you enjoy it, don’t you?”

Hannibal looked from Will’s lovely complexion and bright eyes to his own drink, and back again, with a smile. “It is an opportunity to bring beauty and order to chaos,” he replied, enigmatically. “I believe that is part of the mission of the Jedi when distilled to its purest form.”

That was something Will understood better. He’d always wanted to help hold the peace or help others in some way, but the Masters thought it better he learn fighting and defense first. Maybe that could be different this time. “Peacekeepers, warriors second.”

“Precisely, I think that becomes lost, from time to time, in the view of the council. The Jedi are diplomats,” Hannibal noted with a slight nod and gestured for Will to take a seat on a simple, but elegant cream-colored couch. “In that regard, I imagine your gift is priceless.”

“I wouldn’t say priceless. Everything has a price.” Will shed his robes, down to his simple, bland padawan outfit. He set the robe on the back of the couch and then took a seat. Taking another sip of the drink, he looked at Hannibal. “What is this?”

“I would argue that fear is the price you pay for your gifts, Will,” Hannibal remarked sagely and sipped his drink, again. “A variety of wine I discovered on a trip to one of the more isolated moons around Naboo. Its taste adapts to the palette of its drinker. It is an entirely subjective beverage, in that it adapts to one’s preferences and mentality, it exhibits a sensitivity to character not unlike your own. I thought it suitable for our first drink, together. How does yours taste, different now than it did at first?”

Never having had a drink of this sort before, Will’s taste for it took some adapting, but the finish was smooth and the oaky, a little bit smoky. “It was very sweet at first, the second one is decidedly different. Stronger.”

Lines came to life around Hannibal’s eyes as he smiled, and filed that information away in his remarkable mind. “Reminiscent of anything you’ve had before?” Hannibal asked, with deep interest.

“I can’t say it is,” Will murmured with another sip. It was familiar without being distinct.

“Its taste will evolve with time, as your tastes evolve with time,” Hannibal said, thoughtfully. “When I was a younger man, this wine tasted quite a bit less refined to me than it does now. A pity we cannot taste each other’s drinks.”

The next sip was a little bitter as Will’s gaze settled on Hannibal. He swallowed, licking his bottom lip. “And you consider yourself more refined now than you had then.”

“A natural consequence of age to those capable of self-reflection, which, unfortunately, is a smaller segment of the population than one might wish. I trust you’ve made the acquaintance of Master Chilton,” Hannibal said, with a twinkle in his warm, dark eyes. He crossed his long legs, elegantly.

“Yeah.” Will finished the drink with another few sips, pleasantly warmed through from the inside out of it, a bit more relaxed than he had been at the council meeting. “I think he’d prefer if I wasn’t trained.”

Hannibal chuckled at the observation. “I think Master Chilton is rather envious,” he said, with a tilt of his head. “His appointment to the council was … notoriously hasty.”

“Would you rather it was you in his place?” Will asked, rolling the empty glass between his palms. He’d blocked himself off, but slowly felt the walls and pitched forts start to come down.

Hannibal smiled again at the thought. “Not at all. I was offered his position and declined. He’s been rather bitter toward me ever since.” He swirled his drink and sipped it. “Between you and I, Will, I do not think that the Force can be monopolized and legislated through a highly political council, nor should it.”

“Why is that?” Will canted his head curiously toward Hannibal, already knowing that his new Master was quite different, and with that, Will also knew he was being understood in ways he’d wanted to be for years. His own views were never taken lightly by the council, nor his thoughts on it.

“The Force is something that belongs to us all, as does the air we breathe. Governing it, parsing out our access to something that is essential to life itself strikes me as something that serves the council more than the people of our universe,” Hannibal mused, softly.

“It’s in all of us, not just those who can sense it,” Will commented after a deep breath. “I think the idea is there and known to them, but they have their positions and ideals. Can’t change that now.”

“I have long believed that the council exists for the sake of the council,” Hannibal confided. “Their positions and ideals are the same, in many respects. The Jedi are permitted no attachments, why do you think that is, Will? Haven’t you ever wondered? I have no doubt that your senses were bombarded with the hidden agony felt by your fellow students when they were isolated from their families at a very young age. It is a practice I find barbaric, at best.”

“I figured it was for no distractions. Your focus is the Force and the tasks at hand, for the better of the galaxy,” Will explained, though it hardly meant he agreed. “I… don’t think loneliness is necessarily a good trait though in many of the Knights or Masters.”

“If one has no family, no wife or husband of their own, no children or parents, all that they have is the Jedi code. It is, I fear, a way of ensuring that the institution comes first, always. You’ll have to forgive me, I so rarely have the opportunity to speak frankly with someone else that I’m rather indulging with you right now,” Hannibal said, smiling at Will with genuine warmth and gratitude. “You can understand, now, why I was eager to meet you. You and I have committed the cardinal sin of having our own ideas. You’ve done it publically, I have to commend you for that, Will.”

“They don’t know how your feelings on this?” Will asked, aware he’d put himself out there to the council, and with that, the masters he’d had in the past likely were not pleased with his views, no matter how much now he kept them mostly to himself.

“If I spoke to the council as I speak to you now, we would never have met,” Hannibal pointed out. “You would have been tossed to the service corps, your gifts destined to rot away as a nuisance to you for the rest of your days.”

“A blessing and a curse to be Force-sensitive,” Will sighed, head tilted slightly in thought. “You’re definitely different from the rest. It’s a shame you’re made to hide it.”

“As you said so accurately, earlier: every gift has a cost. The greater the gift, the greater the cost. You have paid dearly, since the day you were born. I believe you’re aware that many on the council fear you, Will.”

“They already do. Why else make a big deal about it?” Will shrugged his slumped shoulders and set the empty glass on the side table. “I mostly resent my parents for allowing me to come here in the first place.”

“Did either of them have the same gift?” Hannibal asked, and noted the slump of his Padawan’s slender shoulders beneath his tunic.

“No. I don’t think they wanted to deal with me because of it.” Will rubbed his hands together, wringing them. He hadn’t seen his parents since he was a small child, he remembered next to nothing about them.

“When did you see them, last?” Hannibal asked, analyzing the pain on Will’s smooth face.

“When the Masters came and took me. I was… four, maybe,” Will answered, licking the inside of his teeth. “Some children got to see their families now and then, but mine never bothered.”

“A shame,” Hannibal sighed and watched Will brood. “I lost my family in the war on my home planet, and then I was discovered by the council. No attachments.”

“Lucky for you.” Will rolled his shoulders back and sat up a little straighter as his awareness set in that he was letting someone over his carefully crafted walls.

“Were you an only child?” Hannibal asked, his gaze moving from Will’s shoulders to his face.

“As far as I can remember. Who knows now. They might have had another.” Will spread his hands over his thighs. “Long forgotten. Unimportant.”

“What was it that they did, for a living?” Will’s hands were small and slim, but well, calloused.

“I think they fixed ships. I don’t recall entirely.” Will’s childhood was a blur, a thing of the past that he couldn’t recall as well as others. Maybe he blocked them out.

“Can you recall their faces, or have you forgotten? A failure of memory is sometimes an act of self-preservation,” Hannibal murmured.

Will only shrugged; he’d put his parents from his mind years ago when he was more than aware that seeing them again was never happening. Somethings weren’t worth his time or effort to manifest time into.

Will’s silence was telling enough. “Regardless, after knowing you for only an afternoon, I feel confident in saying that it was their loss, entirely.”

“You’ve _only_ known me an afternoon,” Will pointed out, quipping back quickly.

“You and I are astute judges of character,” Hannibal said, as he poured them both more wine.

“Then you’ll forgive me if I don’t find you that interesting,” Will answered, taking up the glass once more, licking his lips once before taking a sip. It was still sweet with that back note of smokey bitterness.

Hannibal’s faint, sandy eyebrows rose at his Padawan’s blunt judgment, and one corner of his full lips curled, just a little. “You will,” he declared, promising it.

Remembering that darkness he felt enter the room before Hannibal earlier, Will narrowed his eyes with another sip. Perhaps he would, or perhaps he’d end up dead. One way or another, this would deem to be odd master and apprentice situation. He smiled, swallowing. “I guess we’ll see.”

“So we shall.” A moment passed in silence between them, tense, before Hannibal stood, the gracious host once more. “Would you like to see your quarters, Will?”

“Yes, thank you.” Will finished the drink and sat it down, a warm flush resounding through him that rosied up his cheeks and elf-like ears.

“This way. My house is not large by any means, but I do have a guest room, here-” Hannibal said as he opened a polished wooden door to a comfortable and well-decorated guest bedroom, with a large bed and windows overlooking the city.

“Nicest guest room I’ve ever seen or stayed in,” Will decided out loud, stepping inside. He unhooked his lightsaber from his belt and set it down on the side table.

“Do you have bags? Anything you need to return and retrieve?” Hannibal asked, and admired Will’s gracile build in the padawan robes when he stepped into the room. Will, silhouetted by the city was a striking contrast of organic, natural, pink-cheeked beauty with mechanical complexity around him.

“I pack light. I have extra clothes at the council’s room I was staying in, but I can get them later, or just get new ones,” Will answered, looking out the at the city. The view was much nicer than anything he’d ever had before, for as much as a city could be a nice view.

“New robes would not be amiss for a new chapter in your life. I’d be happy to provide them,” Hannibal said, sure that he had already memorized Will’s measurements, the span of his body, from sight alone.

“You’d do that?” Will canted his head to look over his shoulder at Hannibal, hands clasped behind his back. “The council provides them, it’s no trouble.”

“It would be my pleasure, and the least I can do for your company,” Hannibal said, graciously and with a sincerity in his voice that surprised even him. He took a step, closer to Will. “The feeling of being seen and understood is a rare enough occasion for us both that I think it deserves to be celebrated.”

.”

Eyes cast back to the city view, Will nodded. He’d not argue it with his new Master. “You think you understand me.” Hannibal was not wrong, however, and Will knew that, but for all his trying to fight it off, it was a pleasant feeling to finally be accepted for his strange and unstable nature.

“I think that I understand you more than Master Crawford and the others do,” Hannibal said, a slightly playful tone to this voice when he mocked Master Crawford, just between the two of them. “I think Master Crawford believes you to be a fragile little teacup, Will, only able to be handled by the most careful hands.”

“That’s saying you believe he thinks I have potential.” Will turned once more to Hannibal, narrowing his eyes at him. “I’ve been told I’m too stubborn to amount to anything.”

“I believe your stubborn nature is, perhaps, the anchor that prevents you from drifting from one personality to the next and never finding a way back to yourself after every adventure into another mind.” Hannibal tilted his head at his lovely, stubborn apprentice. “Consider it a lifeline, and guard it, carefully.”

“I see too much and drown in it,” Will commented, aware that perhaps Hannibal _did_ understand him more than he wanted, or expected. “It’s not the most stable lifeline.”

“Then, perhaps you’ll allow me to serve as a homing beacon,” Hannibal offered, softly. “Should your lifeline fail, I will be here to guide you back to reality through the darkness.”

“A light in the dark?” Will assessed the other man a moment, opening himself up to the Force and Hannibal for that briefest of moments. Sincerity with a glimmer of that darkness he’d felt earlier at the council, something he couldn’t quite place, as it didn’t have merit anywhere else.

“An oar for your boat,” Hannibal said, able to feel that Will opened himself to him, just a little. The intimacy of their minds moving a little closer to one another actually stopped Hannibal’s breath in his throat for a moment.

“You want to be my paddle.” Will took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reaching out to touch his mind with Hannibal’s, to prod, to goad, to get in deeper, to find the source of the darkness. Ever curious, and Hannibal allowed it-- encouraged it.

Hannibal stood still, shoulders back, eyes dark as Will reached out to him with his mind. He allowed Will to explore a little, as a larger wolf would permit a younger one to smell him, by way of introduction. “You require a reliable way back to reality. I would be honored to serve as that path, as your Master, and friend.”

“Are we, then, allowing ourselves attachments to one another?” Will asked, taking a step forward, as though the distance hindered him from delving in deeper.

“The Force binds all the individual parts of life together, every cell, every atom. The Force is made up of attachment, Will. In my view, attachment should be encouraged, not forbidden, if the Jedi are to serve the Force, and work in its image.” Hannibal’s liquid dark eyes softened as Will stepped closer, profoundly fascinated by him on a deeper level than even Hannibal could articulate.

“That’s a yes then,” Will quipped with a subtle smirk, eyes locking with Hannibal’s. His interest in Hannibal growing, as he saw the pieces of the council clearly overlooked, or were merely never allowed to see. A veil lifted, just an inch.

“That is a yes,” Hannibal agreed, mirroring Will’s smirk on his own lips. Hannibal’s mind was a vast and complex place, a palace with countless floors. For the first time, he felt a guest at its doors.

Will was often the intruder in many minds, often found wandering around there and kicked out when discovered. In Hannibal’s vast palace, he was welcomed, dared even, to explore further. “What else do you hide from them?”

Hannibal licked his lips, and shared an intimate gaze with Will, lost in the blue of his eyes. “You’ll have to find out, won’t you, Will?” he teased, quietly, able to feel their breathing sync, chests rising and falling in unison.

Another step closer and Will was nearly toe-to-toe with Hannibal, tilting his chin just a fraction to meet his eyes directly. This sort of connection wasn’t wildly heard of apart from siblings, a connection of the mind so powerful Will had no control over how his own mind opened up vastly to his new Master’s. “Yeah…”

Will’s mind was as beautiful as Hannibal had imagined. He’d touched the minds of countless others and found them as dull as a burlap sack, just as coarse and flat. Will’s mind, however, was an opalescent, shifting landscape of greens and blues, meandering streams of thought through shadowy groves of trees that stretched up toward distant stars, infinitely tall. Hannibal felt his jaw drop a little at the lush splendor of it, and felt the landscape merge with his own mind, creating a wild, rambling land around it that equaled the beauty of Hannibal’s cultured structure in the center of Will’s shifting, shimmering wilderness.

“You are remarkable,” Hannibal managed to breathe, awestruck.

Their minds were different, in respect, but matched beautifully against each other, blurring and merging in ways Will had never thought imaginable. “Not the word I would use,” he whispered with a swallow, unable to step back, to hide away and shrink inside of himself. The beauty he beheld in his minds eye was entrancing.

“What word might you use?” Hannibal asked as the countless, shimmering leaves on the trees around his mind palace rustled gently, and a few tentative vines began to curl around the pediments of the castle itself.

“I wouldn’t.” Will breathed out, eyes closed as he reached out to touch Hannibal’s hands with his own, wanting to close that gap, the physical connection with the mind connection, to see more of the castle in Hannibal’s mind, to wrap his naturistic world around it.

Hannibal’s hands closed the gap, and took Will’s into his own, curling his own around Will’s slightly smaller fingers and palms as he swallowed. “Does this happen every time you look into the mind of another, Will?”

“No. I’m an intruder usually. You’re a willing participant.” Palm to palm, Will shivered as the world in his mind shifted ever so slightly, the bright of day into the dark of night.

With nightfall in the landscape of their shared minds, the forest became a study in navy and silver, castle and trees lit the same shade. “When you are lost, return to this land, look for the stretch of the castle walls among your branches. I will be there, waiting in the center of the woods,” Hannibal whispered, one of his thumbs stroking the side of Will’s hand as his eyes closed for a moment.

Will huffed. “Planning on losing me?” Even still, he squeezed their hands together, forging the bond to seal, needing this sort of guidance, this kind of connection with someone who wanted and could, understand him.

“Not for a moment,” Hannibal said, softly, and opened his eyes again to look at Will.

Fading from their connection, Will opened his eyes, too, gazing at his master. “Good.” He’d been left behind too many times, being abandoned again, he wasn’t sure if he could do that.

Still feeling breathless and even shaken by the intensity of their connection, Hannibal squeezed Will’s hands, once, with his own, and then smiled when he heard Will’s stomach rumble. “Even the deepest, most profound metaphysical experiences demand that we tend to the physical. Are you hungry, Will?”

“Apparently I am,” Will chuckled a little, touching his stomach as if to try and get it to stop making such a sound.

“I have something in the kitchen,” Hannibal said, and let go of Will’s other hand, reluctantly, to walk to the kitchen with him. “I do hope you’re not vegetarian.”

“Not even close,” Will murmured, following Hannibal closely. Now that he had someone, the loneliness dissipating, he didn’t want to too far from it. Not right now.

Hannibal led Will into the surprisingly large kitchen. Like the rest of his house, it was immaculately clean and sleek. The cabinets and countertops looked carved from polished white stone. “That’s a relief. Many Padawan abstain from meat. They fail to understand that we are part of a greater cycle, wherein predators are as natural and necessary as prey.”

“It’s supposedly healthier, but I don’t think it is.” Will touched the counters with his fingertips, gliding across the sleek gloss, leaving warm fingerprints in his wake that disappeared as quickly as they placed.

“When they exterminated all of the rathtars from Twon Ketee, the landscape and ecosystem around the extermination deteriorated at an alarming rate. To the chagrin of the hunters of the rathtars, it became apparent that these were essential monsters,” Hannibal removed some well-trimmed meat from a refrigerating unit, and selected a long, elegant knife with which to slice it while a pan heated on a stove top.

Meals like this didn’t happen often, and Will watched keen interest to see someone actually _cook_. “It’s a delicate cycle. One we have to preserve.”

“Precisely,” Hannibal said, aware that Will was fascinated, and offered the blade to him, handle first. “Would you like to try? I do not consider food produced only by technology to be food at all. I’m rather old-fashioned, in that respect. It’s a lost art.”

The only knife Will knew how to use was as a weapon, not for the culinary arts. He took the knife, looking it over, seeing his reflection in the brightness of the blade. “You’ll have to show me.”

Hannibal gestured for Will to come closer, and stood behind him, showing him how to hold the blade. “One finger along the length of the blade, like so…”

Will let the motions sweep over him, using the force to anticipate what Hannibal wanted, but the closeness was relished just the same, a warmth blooming through his chest, from his belly. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” Hannibal assured Will, guiding his young hand through the motion of carving meat.

Swallowing hard, Will worked in caving the meat, picking up the motions quickly, though slightly distracted with their close proximity. “Do you always cook your meals?”

“As often as I can,” Hannibal said, and finally made himself step away to dice some herbs. He added them to the oil in the pan and a rich aroma filled the air.

Will finished slicing the meat, looking over at Hannibal. “When you’re home. I can’t imagine it goes well when you’re away.”

“It’s rather more difficult, yes, so I enjoy my time at home,” Hannibal said with a smile, and took the meat from Will.

Will set the knife in the sink, happy to watch his master work, to learn things not necessarily needed for a Jedi, but for a healthier, even happier, life. “You make it look easy.”

“I have been cooking by hand like this for a long time. Droids are admirable creations, but not capable of art,” Hannibal said, as he added the meat to sizzling oil, slowly.

“They’re technical, not artists.” Will leaned back against the counter, casual now that his guard had been dropped, and he wasn’t rejected for it. “They serve their purpose.”

“I believe food is nourishment for the senses, not just for the stomach.” Hannibal poured something over the pan and it burst into blue flame.

Watching the flame dance and change colors in Hannibal's eyes, Will nodded his agreement, as he couldn't discount it either. “I can't say I've ever experienced a meal like this.”

“Few have, in the Jedi temple,” Hannibal said as he tossed the contents of the pan over and over, expertly, then dampened the flames with a lid.

“All mush and rations,” Will laughed, shaking his head and hopped up onto the counter beside Hannibal.

“I wish I’d had the forethought to prepare something grander, in that case,” Hannibal said as he began to cook vegetables in a different pan with a fragrant oil, and moved into a large, deep, blue dining room to set a table for them.

“I can help if you want,” Will offered, sliding off the counter to follow Hannibal and do his part if he was allowed.

“If you’d like,” Hannibal agreed, “if you would be so kind, there is a bottle of wine on the counter that needs to be opened.”

“More wine?” Will found the bottle and looked for some way to open it. He found the key. “how is this done?”

Hannibal took the opportunity to stand close to Will, again, and reached around him to demonstrate the correct way to open the bottle. “Like so, just pull slowly to open it completely,” Hannibal said, nearly against his padawan’s ear as his hands guided Will’s through the process of easing the stopper out of the elegant bottle.

A shiver ran through Will’s spine, down to his lower back where it pooled and seeped into his thighs. He pulled the stopper out with a little yank, turning his face slightly to catch Hannibal’s eye. “Is this one like the other?”

“It is,” Hannibal said, as he felt the shiver run through Will. “It is understandably popular. You seem to enjoy it. I have other options if you’d like.”

“No, I like this one.” Will’s gaze went back to the bottle and then he set it down on the table. “I’m sure you’ll get around to me tasting the others at some point.”

Hannibal watched Will take the bottle to the dining room table and took his time arranging their meal on two plates. “I have no doubt I’ll introduce you to several new experiences,” he said, and then carried their plates into the dining room, serving Will before himself. He poured both of them a glass of wine, and then took his seat. The dining room was filled with the savory scent of their meal, fragrant, unlike the bland, humble food of the Jedi temple. “You are not curious about what it is we are about to eat?”

“I mean, it looks and smells delicious,” Will said as he sat, picking up his utensil to snag a bite. “Should I be curious?” He raised a brow toward Hannibal, eyes in his, reading his every mannerism.

“I’ll tell you, after your honest opinion of the first bite,” Hannibal said. The low light in the dining room clung to Hannibal’s cheekbones, making him look even more sensual and regal than usual.

Will placed the bite in his mouth and chewed, slowly, working it around his taste buds, taking the savory flavor. It was unlike anything he’d ever tasted. “It’s really good. Honest.” He cut another piece off.

Hannibal flushed with pleasure at Will’s praise, his eyes alight with happiness. “It’s lung, actually. Most people are reluctant to try the more exotic cuts of meat but prepared properly, they can be a rewarding meal.”

“Lung of…” Not that it mattered, the meat was wonderful and better than anything Will had ever eaten in his life. Whether he knew it was lung or heart, he’d probably have eaten it anyway.

“Shaak,” Hannibal answered with a smirk, as though that was a private joke. “A large, sedate, stubborn herd animal found on Naboo.”

“Oh,” Will said around another bite, chewing slowly to savor it. He was certain in a few weeks he wouldn’t even be here, so he’d take what he could now. “Never had it.”

“It’s fortunate you’ve come, my butcher has given me more than I could possibly finish myself,” Hannibal said, and watched Will eat with unblinking eyes.

“You knew you were taking me on though,” Will pointed out, reaching for the wine to wash down the meat, finding it had a slightly sweeter taste to it this time.

“Only as of yesterday,” Hannibal answered, before a sip of his own wine. “When Jack reached out.”

“More than enough time.” Will smiled and set the glass down after another long sip, warm and sated on the inside, blood burning through his skin as he found himself far more relaxed than he had been in a while.

Will’s cheeks had a pink flush to them that rivaled any sunset Hannibal had ever seen, if not eclipsed them entirely. “I have a very efficient butcher.”

“So you do.” Will finished his meal, eating slowly at first and then faster the more he found he enjoyed it. Food had never been a big thing to him, nothing had taste until now.

The more it seemed that Will enjoyed his food, the more pleased Hannibal looked across the table. The Jedi even appeared to forget to eat or drink, too busy watching his young apprentice eat. “If you’d like another plate, we have plenty, Will.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Will insisted, not wanting to impose, or fill himself so full he wouldn’t be able to move. “It’s very good though.”

“I had forgotten how lovely it is to have an appreciative guest,” Hannibal said and sipped his wine. “Dinners for one can be less than inspiring.”

“Well, I’m here as long as you’ll have me.” Will sat back and sipped on his wine, enjoying the flavor as it changed the longer he enjoyed it.

“There are cultures across the galaxy wherein guests remain with their hosts until the host asks them to leave. I have heard of more than one instance wherein such an arrangement lead to a change in permanent residence.”

“Considering I have no residence, you might be stuck with me for a while anyway,” Will commented, teasing, but if Hannibal kept him around and trained him, he wouldn’t say no.

“In that case, consider my residence your residence, until I ask you to leave,” Hannibal said, with a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. Conversing with Will was both profound and playful in equal measures.

“I hope you don’t,” Will murmured, mostly to himself, looking into the glass. He knew his abrasive nature usually put people off, but the fact Hannibal wasn’t, was enough for him to want to stay, and maybe get to know his Master. Interesting? Maybe.

Will was abrasive, certainly. He was blunt, abrupt, more than a little strange, and Hannibal had no doubt Will was capable of stunning selfishness, and self-deception. Will was _difficult_ in the way that everything Hannibal adored was difficult, from his impressive stone countertops to the intricate way he preferred to brew tea for himself every morning.

Will was not for everyone, but knowing him was already rewarding in a way that Hannibal had never felt before.

“Are you familiar with Murakami orchids, Will?” Hannibal asked, refilling their glasses.

“No. What is that?” Will took up his glass to take another sip, leaning over this time on the table, elbows planted. Hannibal had his full attention.

“A rare, force sensitive orchid,” Hannibal said, “from the Murakam system. They produce exquisite black blooms and are capable of bonding to a single Jedi, given an innate compatibility. Some say that compatibility is based on the midichlorian count, but I find midichlorians a crude and reductive attempt to explain what cannot be explained.”

“And let me guess, you have one?” Will grinned knowingly at his new teacher, already gaining a sense of who the man was, and the things he found beautiful were unusual.

Hannibal laughed, and looked at Will, fondly. “Am I already predictable, Will? Yes. I have one, in an incubator, of sorts. The Murakami orchids can only survive without incubation when they have bonded to a Jedi and are near them, which my orchid has not. Nevertheless, it is a singularly elegant specimen.”

“How disappointing for you,” Will quipped, taking another sip of the wine that he’d quickly grown fond of, the heat of a nice relaxation coursing through his veins.

“Perhaps,” Hannibal admitted with a smile in his dark eyes as he watched Will relax. “Would you like to see it? Not many in the universe have seen one.”

“Yet somehow you’ve managed to find one.” Will smiled, but nodded his head. He was curious now to see this strange flower that had his master entranced. “I would love to.”

Hannibal stood, and picked up his, and Will’s plates, then carried them to the kitchen before he returned. “Just this way…”

Hannibal took his own wine glass and led Will down a hallway, and up a flight of stairs where he unlocked a door with a key from his robes, then opened the door to reveal a black-walled room filled with a small landscape of elegant plants arranged like an indoor garden. The few, carefully placed lights and the scent of greenery gave the room the impression of a garden that grew in the dark of night.

In the center of the room was a faceted glass pod on a pedestal that held the Murakami orchid. The stems of the orchid were tall, and sweeping, slender leaves fanning out from the center. At the tips of the long stems were clusters of velvety black orchid blossoms that seemed to absorb the light, instead of reflecting it. The soft-looking, immaculate petals were clustered around amber centers that shone like jewels in contrast. “My garden, filled with specimens from my home planet,” Hannibal said, softly, his tone suggestive of a secret shared between them.

The second Will entered the room he felt something tap against his mind, but not like the intrusion of his Master’s, but something else altogether. Blinking, he walked closer to the orchid, drawn to it more than anything else in the room. “It’s beautiful.”

They moved together after Hannibal closed the heavy door behind him, their feet against the sleek, black stone floor toward the orchid. Hannibal watched Will’s reaction to the room, to the orchid, taking in the movement of every muscle of Will’s handsome face.

“Thank you,” Hannibal said, softly, and stepped toward the orchid to open a section of faceted glass panels so that Will could see the orchid without any barriers. “I find myself strangely protective of this place, and my orchid, in particular. Many would find this place rather sinister. I find it comforting.”

“Some don’t find they can be in darkness for long,” Will answered, quietly, only looking at the blooming flower, not wanting to touch it, afraid he might break it or ruin the petals. “Does it… speak to you?”

Hannibal swallowed and took a deep breath before he looked at Will, staring before he looked away with a smile. “It does not speak to anyone unless it has bonded to its mate,” he murmured, surprised by the force of emotion that ran through his usually tightly controlled, carefully concealed heart. In the glass case, the orchid seemed to stretch toward Will, the blossoms turning to face him as though he was the sun. Will then reached out to touch one of the petals, soft and velvety, immediately feeling a familiar shock roll through him. He swallowed, unable to look away, he tilted his slightly toward Hannibal.

“I must be hearing things then.”

“I don’t think you are,” Hannibal said in a voice that was nearly a whisper, and took a deep breath, staring at the connection between Will’s pink finger, and the absolute black of the orchid’s petal. “I never thought I would witness … this. Growing behind glass was the best the orchid could have hoped for, in my mind. You have proved me wrong.”

“I…” Will finally looked at Hannibal, blinking a little confusion. “Oh, no. I don’t think it’s bonded to me.” No one ever had, let alone a beautiful flower as rare as the one in front of him. Hannibal nodded to where a new, spring green stem had grown since Will’s touch, and wrapped around Will’s finger, holding it. “I’m sorry, Will, it seems the orchid disagrees.”

Looking from the stem to Hannibal once more, Will’s brow furrowed, worried. “That’s not upsetting to you?”

Hannibal looked from Will’s fingers, up to Will’s eyes, unable to lie in a profound moment of connection. “You have a talent for catching me off guard, Will.”

“And it’s only the first day.” Will smiled, eyes back to the dark blooming plant. “Does this mean I have to take it everywhere with us?”

“If you tame a creature, you assume responsibility for it,” Hannibal said, with a little smile, and reached in to lift the orchid by it’s elegant glass base, to hand it to Will.

“How…” Will took the plant, holding it in his hands, the connection stronger this way, as though they were entwining. “How do I take care of it?”

Small tendrils that had sprouted from the stems curled, mimicking Will’s curls as the orchid seemed to gaze at Will, lovestruck and fully alive for the first time. “Keep it close. Beyond that, water, and a little light now and then. It is still a plant, after all,” Hannibal teased, gently.

“So… just water and light,” Will whispered, entranced by the plant, as they coupled together in his mind, bonding and forging. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s beautiful,” Hannibal said, solemnly, echoing Will’s first words upon entering the private garden.

Smiling brighter over at Hannibal, Will seemed to glow with renewed energy, eyes bright against pale skin. “I’ll… put it in my room then.”

Hannibal opened the door to the hallway, to the more mundane parts of the house, meant to be seen by guests, and nodded. “I’ll have to find a new centerpiece for my garden,” he mused, as he held the door open.

“Sorry,” Will said with a little grimace, feeling a little bad about taking the beloved plant, but it hardly seemed to want to let go of him now. He walked out and back to his room, and set the plant by the bed, near the window.

“Perhaps I’ll leave it to you to find its replacement,” Hannibal mused, playfully, following his new apprentice where he watched him from the bedroom door.

“Perhaps it’s not a new plant or flower that you have that needs nurturing,” Will mused, setting the plant just right, turning back toward his Master with a knowing look.

“Are you suggesting that I keep you in the center of my garden, Will?” Hannibal asked, with a dark sparkle playing in his eyes as he took a step closer. “That will make performing our duties as Jedi difficult.”

“A garden doesn’t need to be a place.” Will walked to stand in front of Hannibal, their own connection already vast and binding, a friendship of sorts Will never expected to find.

“In that case, Will, you have already taken root,” Hannibal replied and felt a strange sort of serenity. Speaking with Will was effortless, like conversing in his native tongue. They required no translation between them.

“As I should be since you’re my oar.” Will met Hannibal’s eyes easier this time, like a long time friend he’d just found after years of searching.

A soft alarm tone sounded from the comm system in Hannibal’s study, and he sighed at the interruption. “An oar in a current that may become decidedly choppy, should we ignore Master Crawford’s calls,” Hannibal chuckled.

“Let’s not keep him waiting then.” Will rolled his eyes, their moment suspended in his mind, from earlier, when they’re minds touched and entwined, just _so_.

Hannibal led the way across the hall to his spare study and answered the hail. Crawford’s face filled a screen on one wall. “Master Crawford, I hope all is well,” Hannibal said, pleasantly. “There’s been some trouble in a district that I think is near where you’re stationed at the moment,” Crawford said, with a sigh.

“What sort of trouble?” Will asked, head canted curiously, trying to seem like he was doing much better under Hannibal’s careful instruct.

Crawford observed the two of them for a moment before continuing. “A prominent senator’s been found dead in his apartment. Not just dead … he’s been eviscerated and, well, it’s something you’ll have to see for yourself. Dontr Manew. I’m sure you’ve heard of him,” Jack sighed. “Manew?” Hannibal asked, eyebrows rising. “I see. I imagine word is spreading quickly,” he said, his face becoming concerned.

“We’ll leave now,” Will said, hands clasped behind his back with a look to Hannibal to be sure this was their course of action. Hannibal nodded his agreement. “All we know for sure is that Manew has been murdered and that we cannot rule out Sith involvement. I’ll meet you there, soon,” Crawford said, tersely, and signed off.

Hannibal looked over at Will. “I hope that you have a strong stomach, Will. The sith are rarely merciful in their assassinations.” He led the way out, and donned his long, gray cloak.

Will reached out through the Force as they passed his room, lightsaber flying back into his hand, where he then attached it to his belt. He grabbed his cloak and tied it around his shoulders, following Hannibal out. “Won’t be the first murder I’ve seen, but a first for a Sith one.”

“How many murders have you seen?” Hannibal asked, conversationally, as the city wind caught his cloak.

“A few, with the other Masters I’ve had,” Will answered, keeping up effortlessly with Hannibal. “The under part of the city is full of it.”

“How would you characterize their nature?” Hannibal asked as they walked together through the long, narrow pedestrian pathways that wound between the buildings.

“Of the murders? Sloppy.” Will never minded seeing them, there were worse things to see than someone gutted and robbed.

“As far as intent, were you able to use your gifts to discern why the murders had taken place?” Hannibal asked.

“Usually. Most of the time it was desperation, which makes us all do desperation acts,” Will said, head canted slightly up to look over at Hannibal as they made their way into the core of the city.

“Desperation and sloppiness are frequently intertwined,” Hannibal noted. The closer they came to the politician’s residence, it became clear that word had spread. Crowds had begun to gather around a tall gold building, all of them looking up toward the top floor.

“True…” Will followed the eyes of the citizens, swallowing once, hand on his lightsaber.

“I doubt that will be necessary,” Hannibal assured Will as they made their way through the crowd, and were admitted by the building security.

“We were sent by the council,” Hannibal told the guard, who looked a little blankly at them, and led them to a lift.

“Thirty-seventh floor,” the guard told them and stepped back.

Hannibal thanked the guard politely, and let the doors close after pressing a button.

Will relaxed his stance a little, hands folded in front of him. “That guard seemed off a bit, don’t you think?”

Hannibal gave his padawan a sly look. “His mind was addled with the excitement of the situation…”

Giving Hannibal a quick once over, Will only nodded. “I see…”

“In the interest of efficiency, I may have streamlined his laborious thought processes,” Hannibal admitted.

“My favorite trick,” Will commented, eyes on the doors now as they lifted further up into the building at a quick pace.

“One of many of mine,” Hannibal smiled, enigmatically.

“What are your other favorites?” Before Hannibal could answer, the doors opened, leading out to another set of halls.

“I’ll have to tell you all about them, someday,” Hannibal murmured as they approached the large set of gaudy, gold double door at the end of the hallway.

Around the gold doors moved a hive of members of the Coruscant Police force, and a few droids, all of them looked up at the approaching Jedi.

“Master Lecter,” one of the officers said with a heavy sigh, “a padawan might not be ready for what’s in there…”

Will rolled his eyes to himself. Never had he wanted to remove the braid in his hair so badly. “I’ll be fine, but thank you for the concern.”

“I’m just warning you both, it’s …” the officer took a deep breath, “I knew not everyone loved this guy but, it’s _bad.”_

Hannibal nodded solemnly, and patted the officer’s arm softly, calming him. “We will do our best. Thank you for the warning. Will-” Hannibal turned to look at his padawan, reading him. “Are you ready?”

Admittedly, Will had to steel himself, put the barriers back up, to force himself to not take in every emotion he came in contact with in the next room. “Yes.” He stuck close to Hannibal, an effective shield for the moment.

Hannibal opened the doors and stepped into the senator’s suite. Inside the suite, which had been decorated with a cloying amount of yellow gold, were droids busy gathering any forensic evidence they could find, and the mutilated corpse of the dead senator, himself.

The senator had been rotund in life and seemed even larger in death. He was positioned on one of his heavy gold chairs, looking up at the ceiling. His mouth had been cut open from lips to his ears, and his head peeled back to create a gaping maw instead of a mouth.

In his dead, bloated hands were fistfuls of gold trinkets and coins, in a greedy gesture. His wide open mouth and exposed throat had been stuffed with gold items, as he several slices up his sides. The general, impression of the tableau was of a greedy man who had glutted himself on so much gold that he had died vomiting it up, spilling it from where it exploded from inside his body. Organs had been removed to make room for the gold items, with one piece of black stone sitting where his heart should have been.

Will’s first reaction was to turn away, as it was with most, but instead, he followed in further with Hannibal, taking in the scene around them, every item out of place, or put inside of the senator. Will inched closer, leaning to see the fine details, the scorch marks where the man had been cut, burnt with decisive incisions. Crawford hadn’t been wrong. There was only one sort of weapon that made wounds like this.

“Someone didn’t like our rude senator's greediness.”

“This must have taken quite a long time,” Hannibal observed as he walked around the corpse, admiring it from all angles. “What do you sense, Will?”

“A flair for theatrics,” Will mused, walking around the other side opposite Hannibal. “It’s definitely done with a lightsaber, and there’s an air of darkness here… it’s not much.”

“The body has decayed, quite a bit, he has been dead a while from what I can tell. Perhaps that’s impeding what you can access,” Hannibal said, thoughtfully, and stood near Will, watching him as closely as he had during dinner.

“Could be. He’s been dead, as you said, for a while now. He could have been held, tortured first, and then the body made up like this. Could take a while,” Will commented, crouching low to examine more of the body, but never touching. “A Jedi wouldn’t do this. Not even as a political statement.”

“A sith, then?” Hannibal asked, and tilted his head as he watched his padawan crouch to look closely at the body turned art. “He was hardly a pleasant, or popular man, perhaps his killer wanted it to seem as though a sith performed this act.”

“Considering a lightsaber did this, that leaves very few alternatives. Granted, anyone would likely steal one from a Jedi, but we’d know about sooner or later.” Will looked up at Hannibal, curiously. “You didn’t like him did you?”

“I do not know of a single person who did,” Hannibal replied, with a laugh. “Do you need to inspect my lightsaber, Will?” he asked, teasingly.

Will ducked his head as a flush crawled up the back of his neck, and he stood. “No.”

Hannibal noticed the rosy flush as it crept under Will’s Padawan braid that hung along the slender column of his neck. “Well, then, if you change your mind…” he murmured as the doors opened again to admit Crawford, who swept in with two other Jedi. He stopped to stare at the body, horror rendering his broad face blank for a moment before he composed himself. “Will? What can you tell me?” Crawford asked, in a tone that made it clear he was giving the padawan an _order_ to report.

“Our victim committed a crime against etiquette for the most part,” Will began, standing straight and tall, robes flowing around his feet as he pushed the squelching burn in his skin down to his stomach. “Greedy and rude, the killer stuffed him full of everything he loved most, and took his most vital organs.” Will stood close to the body again, pointing. “He was cut here and here, with a lightsaber. You can see the burn of the kyber crystal against the flesh. It’s very precise. A skilled… Force user.”

Hannibal and Jack both watched Will all but slip into a trance as he spoke. Jack looked hungry for more details, and Hannibal’s face was nearly radiant with pride. He reached out and put a gentle hand on Will’s back. “Miraculous, Will,” he said, softly. “It’s as though the killer is with us in this room.”

“Did this killer know Manew?” Jack demanded, walking around the stuffed corpse.

“Yes. In passing, but it was still… intimate,” Will said, turning his attention to Hannibal at the touch, blinking once, and then to Crawford.

“He was … intimately … offended?” Crawford asked. “Was that the motivation? Manew offended the Sith, somehow?”

“No, the killing. It was intimate. Not…” Will sighed, “without thought.” He wasn’t sure if that was right; if Crawford would even get it. “I don’t think the killer did this as an offense to one party or the other. It was personal.”

“I see,” Crawford said, and sighed, then waved the droids forward again to continue their work. “It wasn’t political. This was personal.” Hannibal stepped closer, looking at the cuts in the body made by the saber, fascinated. “The killer is likely far away by now, vanished into the galaxy around us.”

“Will he kill again? Like this?” Crawford asked Will.

For a long moment, Will just stood there staring at the corpse, darkness creeping in around his vision like thick black fog. Distant, “Yes.”

Hannibal stepped closer to Will, nearly able to breathe against his neck.

“Has he killed like this before? Should we search records for a pattern?” Crawford asked, shifting his jaw at the thought of a Sith Lord with this sort of predilection.

“He has,” Will said with a shiver, turning every so slightly to catch Hannibal’s eye. “Not recently though.”

Hannibal touched Will’s shoulder, searching his mind to see if he needed to be calmed. He was the very picture of a supportive Master, ready to guide his Padawan. “Then we’re grappling with a habitual predator,” he said, grimly. “How does our killer differ from a typical Sith?”

“Power. Control. Deceit.” Will was sitting on the edge of it, a path between dark and light, able to straddle the middle line. “He’s careful.”

“Not a reckless soldier for the dark side,” Crawford agreed, nodding. “What should we look for? How are we going to find this guy?”

Hannibal touched the small of Will’s back, just above his belt, soothing his mind. “Shall we give our Padawan a break on his first day, Jack?” Hannibal asked, pointedly.

Crawford looked from Will’s face to Hannibal, and nodded, reluctantly. “Very well. Contact me if anything else comes to you, Will.”

Many things were coming to Will, and none of them good. He nodded his head, one hand gripped to Hannibal’s shoulders, tight in the softness of his robe. “Will do.”

“Shall we return home?” Hannibal asked as he led Will away from the gruesome scene.

“Sure.” He took Hannibal’s lead back out of the suite, down the darker hall’s of the building to the lift. Will sighed. “It feels a little like whiplash. One minute he hates me, the next he can’t see doing this without me.”

Hannibal stayed close to Will, his hand still on the small of his Padawan’s back as he guided him through the sea of police officers and busy droids, back into the lift. The doors closed, and Hannibal spoke. “Master Crawford is pragmatic to the point of foolishness. Between you and I, when he is focused on a goal, he has a history of forgetting that he is utilizing the skills of living, breathing beings, and not droids.”

“All business,” Will sighed as they slipped into the lift. Will shoved a finger into the button for the ground floor.

“Highly motivated to reach his goals, at any cost,” Hannibal sighed. “You seem stronger now, for a moment, you were entranced.”

“I… really get into things,” Will said, looking down at the floor a moment. “I can see them vividly if I concentrate hard enough. It’s more of a curse than a blessing. I haven’t used it around the other Masters.”

“I have never seen anything like it. You are full of surprises, Will,” Hannibal said, proudly, and let himself touch Will’s hair for a moment, fondly. Will’s soft brown curls were as soft as Hannibal had imagined. Exquisite.

Turning into the touch, Will looked at Hannibal, blue eyes bright. None of his former masters had ever said anything of the sort before, but Will had never let himself be seen either. The walls were crumbling, perhaps too quickly for Will’s taste. “Not sure that’s a good thing.”

“We’re both unusual, Will. There is nothing wrong with that. We are … identically different,” Hannibal assured Will, their eyes locked again, creating a bubble of comfort around them that made Hannibal forget that they were standing in a lift.

“That we are.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, before Will woke, Hannibal’s house was filled with sunlight and the smell of breakfast. The scent wafted through closed doors, waking Will slowly. He blinked once, opened his eyes, looked at the blooming flower at his bedside, and smiled. Will rolled out of bed, watered the plant, and then slipped on his tunic and pants before exiting his room and heading out to the kitchen unit.

Hannibal stood in the kitchen, pouring water carefully through an elaborate system of beautiful glass tubes that wrapped themselves around a glass pot. Steam billowed from the top of the complex system, and although Hannibal looked like he was concentrating intensely on the process, he smiled. “Good morning, Will. How was your sleep? Was the bed comfortable?”

“Better than any cot I’ve slept on,” Will quipped, breathing in the rich aroma in the air. “That smells wonderful.”

“Eggs and sausage, some simple, fresh biscuits, and a cularin berry salad. If you’d like tea, I’m preparing deychin tea, a variety I purchased on Mandalore, when I was there last. It’s quite invigorating, and best served immediately after brewing.”

“Yes, to all of that.” Will stretched, still trying to wake after a night full of vivid, nightmarish dreams.

Hannibal smiled, and his hair, which was still lose this morning, fell over his shoulder, gleaming in the light as he poured and offered Will the first cup of tea, and then tied his hair back neatly with a band. “I anticipated that our work last night may have left you depleted,” he said, pouring his own tea. Hannibal was wrapped in a long, soft crimson housecoat, over a pair of crisp white pajamas that made his skin look even more richly colored than usual.

The padawan’s eyes were trained on Hannibal’s every move, unaware he’d been staring until the other man spoke. He hummed, nodding. “It does take its toll.” Will took the cup and sipped on it, delightfully surprised.

“Wandering through the mind of a killer is an intense journey that few have the fortitude to make. Did you dream, Will?” Hannibal asked, and led Will to the dining room where a perfectly set table waited for them. Hannibal gestured for Will to sit and lifted the lid on the dishes he’d prepared. Both plates looked like art, every berry precisely placed to accentuate the dish of eggs, browned sausages, and biscuits. It was simple but divine.

“If you want to call it dreaming.” Will took his seat, same as the night before, setting his mug of tea down in front of him. He was going to get spoiled, he could tell.

“Nightmares?” Hannibal asked, without surprise, and sipped his tea before cutting some sausage for a bite.

Will scooped a mouthful up, nodding his head as he chewed, starved. He swallowed. “Yeah. Everything comes with a price, right?”

“Some heavier than others,” Hannibal agreed and watched his young Padawan devour his breakfast. “Although I’m sure I can guess the subject of your nightmare, did you dream you were the victim, our killer, or were you simply witness to the act?”

“I was the killer,” Will whispered, looking down at his food and then back at Hannibal after a moment, contemplating. “I can empathize all too easily.”

“How did it feel?” Hannibal asked, entirely without judgment as they chatted intimately over brunch.

“It was a nightmare. I…” Will sighed out, ragged, and shook his head. “It was terrible.”

“The best disinfectant is sunlight, Will. It’s good to discuss it aloud. I can promise that I will not flinch,” Hannibal reassured his Padawan. “Where did the nightmare begin?”

“Outside of the building where the victim lived. I wandered up, no one noticed me, no one paid any mind, as though it were… perfectly normal,” Will shrugged, staring at his eggs more than he ate them. “I went in, I knocked, he looked surprised, and I… sliced him open.”

Hannibal’s lushly shaped lips fell open just a little as he listened. “No one but the victim seemed to notice your presence?”

“No one. As if I weren’t there at all.” Will swallowed some tea, mouth dry at just the thought of it all over again. “I’d felt a darkness there yesterday, and I felt engulfed in it again in my dream.”

“Is it a familiar darkness, Will? Something you’ve encountered before?” Hannibal asked, with a tilt of his head as he set his teacup down on the table.

“I can’t say it was, before yesterday,” Will said, poking at his food, he took up another bite.

“Were you human, in the dream?” Hannibal asked, and looked satisfied that Will had begun to eat.

“I never saw myself. I assume, maybe. I wielded the lightsaber as a human might.” Will shoveled the food into his mouth, feeling a weight lift off his chest. Hannibal was right, getting it into the light of day was a relief.

“Where did you make the first slice in our victim’s flesh?” Hannibal asked, between sips of hot tea.

“Chest, to remove his vital organs, for replacing, and… keeping.” Will cleared his throat with that and sipped on the tea to keep from squirming about it.

“When you did that, in the dream, how did you feel, Will? Were you disgusted? Appalled at your own actions?” Hannibal wondered aloud in the peaceful dining room filled with the talk of the most gruesome act imaginable.

Will met Hannibal’s eyes. “No. I didn’t. I-I... felt righteous.”

“As though by gutting the senator, you were doing the universe at large a great service?” Hannibal asked. It was a strange pleasure to see the killer through Will’s eyes. “As though you were plucking a particularly odious weed from a garden?”

“Swatting a pest.” Will smirked a little with that, and set his teacup down, most of the beverage gone.

Hannibal returned the smirk with a sparkle in his eyes and picked up Will’s cup to make a refill for him. “Righteous, indeed. What happened next, Will?”

“I sliced his belly on the sides and stuffed him full of gold and trinkets. Then, I set him up, filled his fists, and mouth with the rest, and left him to be found.” Will explained, as though he’d actually done it, the dream was vivid enough.

“How did it feel, once the body was perfected, and you beheld your completed work?” Hannibal asked, looking at Will from behind as he walked to him slowly, the cup of fresh tea in his hand. Steam curled up from the tea, into the air in soft tendrils that mimicked Will’s curls.

“I was proud.” Will looked up and behind himself at Hannibal, gaze narrowed slightly. “Why all the questions?”

“In order to help you work through the nightmare, I thought it better to anchor your attention to certain points,” Hannibal explained, reasonably, and set the tea in front of Will, leaning over him just enough that Will could smell the skin of his throat for a second before he returned to his own seat. “And, if I’m to be completely honest … curiosity.”

“I guess it is _that_ interesting,” Will sighed, taking the cup once more to sip. Hannibal's smell reminded him of an otherworldly scent. “Do you wear scents?”

“Not at the moment,” Hannibal answered with a subtle smile. “Why do you ask?”

“You… smell nice.” Will chugged a hot sip after that, realizing he found Hannibal's scent to be engulfing and alluring, making him run hot from his core out.

Hannibal flushed, to his own surprise, and smiled as he looked down at his plate, then back up at Will. “Thank you,” he chuckled. “I suppose living together would be difficult if you found my scent offensive.”

Shifting his jaw, Will nodded and stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth to keep from saying anything else. This was his new master, he could _not_ start feeling any which way about him.

“Jack contacted me this morning,” Hannibal said, changing the topic, for the moment, even though he was still radiant from the compliment. “He wanted to know if you’d gleaned any other insights, specifically where the victim’s organs may have been disposed.”

“He must have a lot more faith in me than he’s ever let on to,” Will murmured around the rim of his cup. Suddenly Will was more insightful than the council had ever seen and he was the golden boy. It wasn’t where Will wanted to be.

“Or, Jack and the council are clutching at straws, now that the evidence points to a Sith. The public are already on edge about the presence of the Sith, I have no doubt this places the council under enormous pressure to respond with a show of force … so to speak,” Hannibal said as he raised his cup, smirking at his own pun.

“So they put it all on my shoulders? If I’m wrong, I’m disposable.” That didn’t make Will feel much better either, however. If they got rid of him, he’d find his way back to his own planet, buy a water ship…

“If _we’re_ wrong, Will. You’re not alone,” Hannibal assured. “Not to mention, I have confidence that you are even more correct than you know about this killer. The question is, can he be caught?”

“I’ll have to be two steps ahead of him, but I get the feeling he’s five ahead of us,” Will said, shaking his head and then blew on his tea. “It’ll be a lot of work. But, maybe.”

Hannibal looked down at his empty plate, deep in thought for a moment before he looked back up at his padawan. “I think that if anyone could understand this killer, truly understand him, it is you.”

“I have a knack for the monsters, I guess.” Will leaned on his elbows, sipping the tea. “Hopefully there won’t be more of them, just this one killer.”

Hannibal looked at Will’s elbows on the table with fondness, rebuking him the furthest thing from his mind. He’d rather sketch Will just as he was right now, relaxed, still a little asleep, and off guard with his curls in disarray. “What fortunate monsters.”

A few times now Will had been sure the other man had been flirting, but Will hadn’t been around a lot of flirting to know. With a chaste smile, he brushed it off and sipped from the mug, steam whisping into his eyes. “If I catch them. Uh, well, if _we_ catch them.”

“This particular monster may be difficult to catch, we may have to work together for a very long time, Will,” Hannibal smiled. He had locked away the way Will had smiled at him in his mind, framing it.

“That’s good as security for my position with you.” Will chuckled, cheeks warming from the steam and the way Hannibal looked at him. It was nice not to be looked at as though a freak, or meek.

“Should this killer strike again, of course,” Hannibal murmured, smiling back at Will, admiring him with intense, almost obsessive focus.

“Do you think he will? I do,” Will said, certain that if there was any other rude senators or political figures, that this killer would be there.

“I am certain of it,” Hannibal said, with a gleam in his eyes, and passed his tongue over the sharp edges of his teeth, behind closed lips.

Will stood then, and took up his plate to put in the kitchen with his teacup. “I’m going to wash these and then shower if that’s alright. Then, we can deal with Master Crawford.”

“Of course, take all the time you need, Will,” Hannibal said, as he watched Will take the dishes into the kitchen, and after a moment, stood to follow him. It was a strange sensation, to feel bound to Will, as though by a long thread.

“The least I can do,” Will said as he washed the plates and everything else, setting them to dry. “You cooked.”

Hannibal watched Will’s hands from behind as he worked at the dishes, admiring them covered in suds. “How did your hands become so calloused, Will? I don’t recall training at the academy being quite so physically demanding.”

“I fix things,” Will answered, washing the last dish and then dried his hands, turning to look at Hannibal. “An inherited ability I guess. Lucky you, if our ship breaks down.”

Hannibal found himself utterly enchanted by the idea of Will elbow-deep in a motor, fixing it. “Yes, I would consider myself very lucky indeed. A pity I did not have you by my side last month. I was stranded for a week.”

“I’ve been here. Were you looking?” Will smirked, chin tilted up slightly, meeting Hannibal’s gaze. He was, without a doubt, growing fond of his new teacher, despite himself.

“All my life,” Hannibal replied, without missing a beat. The light filtered into Will’s spectacularly blue eyes, and Hannibal realized that he’d forgotten to _breathe._

A flush flitted across Will’s cheeks, boyishly grinning as he stepped past his Master. “You’ve been around longer than me, you must’ve stepped right over me because I was too young.”

Hannibal turned, his body following Will’s path as the blossoms of the black orchid did, like Will was the sun. “I suspect you made a habit of being difficult to find, Will.”

“I learned at a very young age how to hide from everyone else, even other Force users. I never wanted to be found, but someone, usually Master Yoda, always did.”

“Master Yoda is rather good at seeing what few others can,” Hannibal said, with just a trace of chagrin.

“Unfortunately.” Will turned, padding off down the hall toward the fresher for his shower. “I’ll be ready in a bit.”

Hannibal watched Will walk off, and wondered when he began to feel his absence, even into another room, so acutely.

Fifteen minutes later, Hannibal waited in the living room, dressed in well-tailored, sandy-colored robes.

Freshly showered, Will walked back out a few minutes later in the same clothes, since it was all he’d come with. His hair was wet, dried quickly, but still damp. He pushed it back into a small band to keep it out of his face, braid hidden down his back, not resting over his shoulder as most padawans wore theirs.

“All set.”

“We really must see about finding you more robes,” Hannibal said, as he stood, looking Will over. “Perhaps after we meet with Crawford.”

“Would hate to be _that_ padawan,” Will snickered, pulling the hood up on his cloak and adjusting it and his lightsaber on his belt.

“The padawan who wears one robe, continually? Or the padawan who requires a tremendous amount of upkeep and coiffing?” Hannibal asked as he pulled his hood up as well.

“Both?” Will raised his brows, almost comically at that, and stepped out of Hannibal’s lush apartment once more.

Hannibal stepped out with Will, and onto the stone pad that held his ship, which he opened with a wave of his hand. “Would you care to fly, or shall I be accused of using you as a pilot again?”

“I can do it if you want.” Will stepped in. It was hard to believe they’d only just met the day before. They had an easy rapport, Hannibal was easy to be around, Will found it easy to just… _be_.

“I won’t object,” Hannibal said, as they boarded the ship, and the door closed behind them with a hiss. “I usually enjoy controlling the ship, but you have a talent for it. From time to time it is nice to be in the passenger seat, provided your pilot is skillful.”

Will stepped away from the control, gesturing for Hannibal to take them. “By all means. It _is_ your ship.”

“Forgive me if I misspoke, Will. I meant to imply I admire your skill,” Hannibal said, amused and slightly relieved that Will hadn’t understood any of his more oblique meaning behind what he’d said.

“I… mean. I can if you wanted,” Will sighed, hot under his robes suddenly.

“Perhaps another time,” Hannibal said and took his place in the passenger seat.

Will shucked his robe off, for now, to cool down, and then got into the pilot's seat. He didn’t say anything more until they were lifting off. “To the council?”

“Of course,” Hannibal said, distracted for an instant by the way Will’s throat was exposed by the cut of his worn robes. He’d be certain to have that replicated in Will’s new wardrobe. The tiny hollow between Will’s collarbones was too beautiful to conceal.

Off they flew, once more, out of the atmosphere and around the planet. It didn’t take too long until they were back where they started, and for a second Will had a horrible feeling he might be left here again. He swallowed hard and shut the engine down. Will cleared his throat and then gathered his robe once more, setting it over his shoulders.

Hannibal walked into the temple with Will, staying close as they walked in, past a group of younglings who stared after them in fascination, and to Crawford’s chambers, where Jack waited. “Will, Hannibal, come in,” Crawford said.

Will’s nerves seemed to settle a little when he walked in, it was just them, no other council members. No one was turning anyone in, not to today. Will nodded his head in respect to the elder Master, and waited to be told to sit, else he’d stay standing.

Hannibal sat, as did Jack, and Hannibal nodded for Will to sit as well, watching him closely as he realized Will still waited for commands. “We’ve done some looking into other cases like this, on other planets, in other systems. We’ve found … a disturbing trend,” Crawford said and touched a sphere on a table that projected a series of six holograms of dead bodies turned into high art into the air.

“You believe these were all created by the same Sith?” Hannibal asked, astonished. “That’s why I wanted Will to see them,” Crawford muttered.

After taking a seat, Will sat forward on his knees for a better look. He poured over them, moving one hand to slide through each one closely. “Are these political leaders? Princesses or Princes? Kings? Queens?”

“Not all of them,” Jack told Will and stood to pace restlessly. “Most of them were ordinary men, most with a reputation for being unpleasant, even abusive in some cases.”

One of the men had been gutted and stuffed with strange flowers in the shapes of his missing organs, another had been sliced into many parallel sections, frozen in huge blocks of ice with incredible precision. Yet another man was impaled, multiple times, with different instruments and weapons, left on display in a healing ward. Finally, a young woman was thrown onto the branching antlers of a large, dead Ravenbeast, and left in a field.

“So, it’s not a political standpoint,” Will murmured to himself, looking over the pictures carefully, considering Crawford’s words in the same manner. “Just despicable people. The unfortunately rude and obscene, I imagine.”

“All of the victims had a history of treating others poorly,” Crawford nodded. “We also discovered this. It’s grainy, and from a distance, but a security camera on Jedha captured this image at the scene of the man impaled with twenty-seven implements…” Jack tapped another sphere, and an image of poor quality flickered to life: the black silhouette of a tall figure robed in black from head to toe, with what looked like long, sharp antlers growing from his head. The being’s features were not visible, just the outline of his eerie form.

Will stood to get a better look, moving his hand to make it bigger, but it did no good to the poor quality. “A creature, or someone trying to emulate one, anyway. I’m certain our killer isn’t a beast of any kind. A humanoid, at the very least. This could be a disguise. A costume to wear so the galaxy doesn’t see their true self.”

“Is this something the killer would have done? Is this consistent with what you’ve sensed, Will?” Crawford asked with a note of dread in his voice. “We have no record of him having _committed_ the killing, but he was at the scene.”

“That’s him,” Will said, that dark feeling overwhelming him once more, clouding his vision the further he stepped inside of the scenes. “They are all congruent.”

Will seemed to slip, once more, into his stream, under the surface of his gift. Hannibal stared, fascinated, as Crawford frowned at Will’s confirmation, and sat down, heavily. “That … is not what I wanted to hear,” Jack grumbled. “Why is that?” Hannibal asked, staying near Will as they spoke.

“There are rumors, troubling rumors, about a Sith Lord. One feared, even among the Sith themselves. He’s rumored to wear a mask, or a helmet, with antlers protruding from the skull of it. A Sith apprentice _killed_ himself in custody rather than speak about him,” Jack said.

“That’s him…” Will whispered, wistfully, his gaze far off as he stared at the picture of the figure. “He’s a shadow. Darkness. Won’t be seen unless he wants to be seen.”

“So, you suggest that this Sith Lord wanted to be seen?” Hannibal asked, looking between Will and the grainy, shaky image.

“Yes. By… someone. Not everyone. He’s... lonely.” Will shifted his gaze suddenly to Hannibal, eyes sharp and in focus, watching him. “Even the darkest creatures can be lonely. Why not put the call out there and see what calls back.”

Hannibal’s gaze softened, and he smiled at Will, as though in awe of him. “He seeks connection, to be seen by someone with the ability to understand him. His killings are beacons, into the void.”

“One moment, you’re telling me that this _Sith Lord_ is … _lonely_?” Crawford asked, his voice incredulous and booming.

Will’s eyes snapped to Crawford, darkening. “Don’t we all just yearn to be understood and have someone who does just that? The universe is vast, can you imagine being alone in it your whole life? To never be understood, Master Crawford?”

Hannibal reached over and put a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder after admiring the darkness of his eyes for a moment. “I understand that he’s killed seven people!” Jack thundered back.

Will flinched and stood. “You asked me my opinion. Take it or leave it.” He turned and left, robe billowing behind him as he made a beeline out.

Hannibal followed a moment later, and Crawford followed. “PADAWAN GRAHAM! I am not finished!”

“I’m done! You didn’t even like me yesterday! Why should I do this now and let you get angry with me when I tell you something you don’t want to hear?” Will snarled, seething, anger boiling in his veins.

“BECAUSE PEOPLE ARE DYING!” Crawford thundered and opened his mouth to shout again when Master Yoda’s voice interrupted him.

“An example you have given to the younglings, Master Crawford, of what it costs to indulge in anger,” Yoda said, as he shuffled toward them. Hannibal put his hand against the back of his padawan’s neck, gently, to calm his hot-headed pupil as Yoda took control of the council member.

“I … was having a discussion with Padawan Graham when he walked out,” Crawford explained, but his posture was humbled by the small, green Master.

“And walk out he has a right to do, hm?” Yoda asked Crawford, patiently.

Crawford sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”

“Our youngling he is not. Hannibal’s pupil he is now,” Yoda sighed, and gave Jack’s hand a sharp smack with his cane, then walked to Will, and looked up at him, beckoning for Will to crouch so that they could speak more privately.

Will got down on his knees, to Yoda’s height, swallowing down the quelled emotion in his throat. “I apologize for storming out, Master Yoda. I’m… overwhelmed.”

Yoda looked at Will and nodded his understanding. “Strong, must you be, to work so closely to the dark. Strong you have always been, Will Graham, seen that in you, I have from the beginning. Listen, do not to Master Crawford, he thunders and blusters, but means no harm. Find this killer, we must, but becoming dark ourselves is not the way.” Yoda nodded to himself, and Will. “Stay close to Hannibal, you must. Be mindful to search in the dark, but become lost in it, do not. Sorry, Master Crawford is, William.” Yoda looked back at Crawford, expectantly.

“I’m … … … sorry,” Crawford managed, with a heavy sigh.

Will nodded toward Crawford, accepting it, and then looked back to Yoda, understanding. “Master Lecter has already taught me so much in our first day. I believe he can help me reach my potential and stay away from the Dark Side.”

Yoda looked from Will to Hannibal, and back again. “Much to teach, Master Lecter has, yes,” Yoda agreed. “Meditate on what you have seen, on what you feel. Tell Master Crawford what you learn in your meditations when done you are. Tell me you will if Master Crawford loses his temper again, you must,” Yoda said, with a little laugh.

Will bowed his head. “I will do that. Thank you, Master Yoda.” Will stood once more, smoothing his hands over his brown robes, worn and frayed, just like he felt.

“We’ll take our leave,” Hannibal said when Will stood. He nodded at Yoda, and to Jack, and placed his hand on Will’s shoulder. “When you are ready, Will.”

“I’m ready.” Will turned to leave, a little wave to Yoda and the younglings watching on, and then touched Hannibal’s hand, a shock rolling through his system straight to his spine when he did.

Hannibal’s black pupils blew wide when Will touched his hand, the shock passing through his flesh at the same time, like lightning through his veins. For a moment, Hannibal curled his fingers through Will’s, and then remembered where they were, and stepped back.

For a man who was typically so careful, and so tightly controlled, his growing attraction to Will was strange and alarming, like a force of nature, like sand in the gears of a perfect machine. Hannibal pushed the panel for the door to hold it for his Padawan, politely, if only to give his tingling hand something to do.

Opting to not do that again, Will clutched his hands together, hiding them under his robe sleeves. He slipped through the arch and walked through, waiting for Hannibal. Once they were out of earshot, he tilted his head toward his Master. “They are all troubled by this.”

“By the killings, yes,” Hannibal said, the thought lingering in his mind that Will referred to the touch of their hands.

“The Sith. I’ve never seen a Master get so… riled,” Will said, covering his tracks, walling himself off once more, trying to repeat that mantra in his head so he could hold on to it, remember.

“The Sith are notoriously dangerous, a Sith with such sadistic, predatory habits doubly so,” Hannibal mused, able to feel that Will shut himself away, again.

“I wonder what he’d done to the apprentices to make them fear him,” Will mused as they walked back to the ship.

“Rumor can be more frightening than the truth,” Hannibal mused, “echoes passed down from circle to circle of dark Jedi. It is not necessarily true that he harmed any of them directly,” Hannibal said.

“Reputation got the best of them?” Will canted his head toward his master, eyeing him carefully. “Those must be some rumors.”

“What we know of this Sith Lord is what he allows us to know, what do you imagine he has done that he has not permitted the wider galaxy to witness? That is the stuff of rumor,” Hannibal said, looking over at his Padawan with a soft smile.

“His tableaux are just the beginning. I imagine he could do quite a bit worse, the rest of the galaxy could imagine the extreme,” Will commented, standing beside their ship as he faced Hannibal. “Either way, he is dangerous. And likely on this planet. Even now.”

Hannibal tilted his head at Will’s observation, fascination drawing them closer again. “Do you sense his presence?”

“Hard not to when I’m stuck in his mind.” His mind was still clouded from the dream, and then the holos of victims, Will couldn’t quite shake it. “It feels like he’s right beside me.”

A little amusement lit Hannibal’s eyes, and he reached out, touching Will’s arm softly through his sleeve, reopening the bridge of contact between them again after the moment when their hands touched in the temple. “He has never had such good fortune.”

“I’m just imagining it anyway.” Will settled, tension easing from his shoulders when Hannibal touched him, ground him to the spot, rather than floating away in the concaves of his mind.

Hannibal smiled and tucked a curl of Will’s hair behind one ear. “Shall we find you a set of robes that do not give the impression that you are a month away from seeking alms in the underworld?” Hannibal asked, with a little smirk.

Turning his head into Hannibal’s quick touch, Will nodded and then turned away. “That’s a good idea if I’m to be seen with you.”

Hannibal was certain he’d seen a hint of a blush creep over Will’s young face before he turned away, and smiled in response. “Indeed. I’m afraid I have standards, Padawan,” Hannibal teased, and led Will down the walkway, toward the city core.

Will followed, dutifully, never more than a step behind Hannibal, robes flowing as they walked briskly. “A Jedi with high living and clothing standards. I never thought I’d see that one.”

Hannibal laughed to himself and shared a look with Will as they walked. “I see nothing about dressing and eating well that preclude one's connection to the Force,” Hannibal confided. “I am as capable of allowing the Force to flow through me in a well-made set of robes as I am in rags. I find the suggestion that virtue is only found in those feigning poverty disingenuous, and an insult to those who suffer from poverty they cannot escape, as it is in the underworld, over which the large and well-designed Jedi temple is constructed.”

“Maybe you have a point. I suppose most Jedi are more simplistic. You’re… a little more complicated.” Will didn’t mind, he found the complicated and high society attitude challenging, and thus not boring.

“After years away from my indoctrination at the temple, I look upon the rules we Jedi are given with a clear-eyed perspective. Loyalty to a set of rules one does not fully understand is meaningless compliance.” Hannibal touched Will’s back and they turned a corner to a gleaming row of massive towers that lined a wide and crowded avenue.

“So… it’s a guideline, but not a say all,” Will commented lightly, taking up step next to Hannibal now, their strides aligned, syncing as they wove their way around everyone else.

“We must remain mindful of the fact that the Jedi code was created by beings, not by the Force itself. Beings are innately capable of corruption, of culpability, and we must not confuse devotion to the Force with devotion to the council, or to the code.” Hannibal kept his voice down, just between him, and his padawan.

“Not black or white, a grey area,” Will murmured, leaning in closer as they walked, so their words didn’t fall to anyone else.

Their shoulders touched as they made their way through the crowds, to the shops beyond. “Precisely,” Hannibal agreed, looking at Will more than he looked at the buildings or beings around them.

“That makes a lot of sense, I think.” Will was still learning, of course, but that’s why he had a master, after all, to learn the ways and thinking that he needed to be Jedi, to really survive out there.

Hannibal wrapped his arm around Will’s back and guided him to the left, toward a store that looked modest from the outside, but displayed a set of well-tailored suits in the window. “Just this way.”

“Here?” Will's eyes went wide, brows raised as he looked over everything. “These are too much, Hannibal… _Master_.”

Hannibal felt hair raise on his arms when Will called him by his title, and he swallowed, momentarily distracted. “Something simple,” Hannibal promised, as they walked toward the back of the store, and a shopkeeper greeted Hannibal with a bow of his head. They conversed in another language, and Hannibal gestured to Will, to whom the tailor bowed his head. “I asked him to keep your robes sensible,” Hannibal promised.

“I get the feeling sensible here is still far more than I’d ever pay,” Will quipped with a teasing smirk. He did need new things, however, so he wouldn’t complain. He nodded his head back to the tailor, appreciatively.

“That is precisely why I am paying for them,” Hannibal teased back as the tailor looked Will over, and a small, round droid came to take Will’s measurements. “You will have to remove your cloak, Will.”

“Oh.” Will undid the knot and then shed the cloak, dirty and old, worn and likely never replaced since he hit his adult height.

Hannibal picked Will’s old cloak up and handed it to the tailor with a few words in the foreign language beneath his breath that made the tailor take the old, ratty cloak to the back room. “I’ve asked your tailor to direct your cloak to the nearest fireplace, Will. You outgrew it years ago.”

“So glad I had no sentimental attachment to it.” Will gave Hannibal a sly, out of the corner of his eye, look.

“What a relief, attachments are forbidden, after all,” Hannibal said, dryly, as the droid began to measure Will’s arms, and Hannibal watched Will in the mirror.

Their eyes met in the mirror, only a pane of glass between an intimate gaze. “Thank goodness for that.”

An attachment was, Hannibal could see, growing between them, rapidly. Despite his disdain for the rule against attachment, Hannibal was a man who rarely allowed himself true attachment. Loss, catastrophic loss, was the only outcome of attachment he’d ever known. He was hardly eager to repeat the experience. However, the physical charge he’d felt at the touch of Will’s hand in the temple was hard to ignore, as was the easy, natural way their minds grew together. Forbidden or not, attachment seemed inevitable to his bright, unique Padawan.

“Indeed, your fondness for your threadbare cloak might have stood to threaten the very foundations of the Jedi code,” Hannibal murmured, close to Will’s ear, with a smirk on his lips. “Perhaps that is why they gave you such paltry food, shelter, and clothing. You are unlikely to develop a dangerous attachment to the barely adequate.”

Will raised a brow at Hannibal in the mirror, their eyes never faltering from each other. “There is something to that then, isn’t there? Boring and dull things aren’t as nice to have an attachment to, there’s no need to keep it.”

“I suspect that is why they appointed Master Chilton to the council,” Hannibal whispered, “to discourage attachment wherever he goes.” His lips brushed Will’s ear for a moment before he pulled back, the touch so brief as to be accidental. “He was eager to take you on, as a padawan,” Hannibal noted.

Will shivered and then scrunched up his nose at the very thought. “No thanks. He doesn’t strike me as… exciting or very knowledgeable about anything I’d want to learn.” Will sighed. “And he’s so pompous.”

“I think you’d scare Frederick away inside of three days,” Hannibal chuckled, admiring Will as the droid rolled away, to the back. “He’d find you more brilliant than he was, and conspire to ship you to the service corps.”

“I don’t know about brilliant, but smarter than him?” Will grinned. “Definitely. He wouldn’t like me if he tried to know me. Most don’t.”

“Bad taste is, unfortunately, epidemic,” Hannibal said, softly. “For selfish reasons, I’m relieved Master Chilton did not succeed.”

Cheekily, Will turned to meet Hannibal’s eyes face-to-face. “Me too.”

Will’s blue eyes caught the light from the window of the shop, and they were lit with an otherworldly blue-green, as though from within. “I am sorely tempted to write a letter of thanks to your last failed Master.”

“I’m sure they would love that.” Will smoothed down his tunic, idly, eyes on his feet for a moment before looking around the shop. “How long does this take?”

“Not terribly long for something simple enough. We could stay here, or browse elsewhere while we wait,” Hannibal said, softly, thinking of all the places he’d like to show Will.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve never ventured around here for more than just walking through.” Will kept to himself, mostly unnoticed, and mostly quiet, to himself.

“Alone?” Hannibal asked after he assured the shopkeeper they would return, and stepped outside with Will.

“Usually. All my past Masters never bothered to bring me down here. All business,” Will explained as they stepped out, feeling rather exposed without his cloak.

“I am surprised you were allowed to wander so freely,” Hannibal said, and stayed close to Will as they made their way through the street. Will attracted a few second glances, much less hidden from view without his hood up.

“No one said I did it with their permission.” Will smirked over at Hannibal, shrugging slim shoulders. “Often they would go to do something else and leave me behind.”

“A hallmark of a poor Master is failing to know the difference between the value of observation and the value of participation,” Hannibal said, with heavy meaning behind his words. “Leaving you behind is, perhaps, less cumbersome for them, but robs you of the experience of participation. I intend to make you a participant, Will, in all I do.”

“All?” Will asked with a quirked brow to his Master, a glint of a smile just below the surface.

Hannibal caught the hint of a smile and returned the look as he wrapped an arm around Will’s waist for a moment, and turned him into another store. “Unless, of course, you object.”

They were entering a bookstore, full of old texts from floor to ceiling on massive shelves.

“Not at all,” Will breathed, sure that he’d held it for a moment when Hannibal put his arm around him, even if just to steer him into the store. His senses were overwhelmed when they were this close, fogged by instincts of the body and mind he had no control over.

Will’s eyes wandered the shelves, big and bright, in awe of the massive amount. He had no idea a bookshop existed here.

“Have you ever been permitted to choose your own books?” Hannibal asked as he watched Will’s eyes devour the shelves full of what had been denied to him so far in his education.

“No. Just what the council deems I can or should read.” Will shifted away from Hannibal’s side to look at a row of books, touching the spines of them with his fingers. “Which is fine. I’ve always been curious though.”

“Now is the time to indulge your curiosity. Choose three books, for now, anything you like. We’ll return for more later,” Hannibal promised, quite happy to set his curious young Padawan loose to broaden his mind.

“You may regret that.” Will set immediately, looking for various genres, picking out two interesting history ones and then paused as his fingers brushed the spine of a leather bound book. He grasped it and pulled it out, flipping through the pages which had text, drawings, and pictures. One, in particular, stood out to him the most and looked a lot like the beast the Sith was hiding under.

Hannibal strode around the corner of the shelves Will had disappeared behind. His expression warmed at the sight of his tousled padawan pouring over a book. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” he asked.

“Yes.” Will closed the book, adding it to his other two and held them in his arms for now. “Some light reading.”

“Your things should be ready now, they work very quickly,” Hannibal smiled, and waited for Will to join him.

Taking the steps to Hannibal’s side once more and handed the books over to be bought. “Convenient.”

Hannibal took the books, and let their fingers brush again, just slightly. “One of the many reasons I thought their services would be appropriate,” Hannibal said, as he looked at the spines of Will’s books. “History?” he asked, with curiosity, “And a compendium of mythological creatures..”

“I thought they would all be very helpful in tracking down our killer,” Will suggested with a cant of his head. He turned the book over in Hannibal’s hands and opened it to the page he marked. “See here? It looks like that creature.”

Hannibal’s lips dropped open a little in surprise, and he looked down at the page Will had found. In every page, of every book of this bookstore, Will had located _this._ “A wendigo?”

“Interesting, right? A mystical beast that eats human flesh,” Will explained, and showed him another picture. “No one has ever seen a real one, but that doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist. Not that I think our killer is one, I just think he uses it.”

“To instill fear into his victims?” Hannibal asked, intrigued, and turned his attention back to the detailed page on the mythical Wendigo: an intelligent, terrifying, deadly predator with a taste for human flesh … and an ability to shape-shift.

“I think so.” There was no saying for certain, but Will had a gut feeling about it. They were next in line, so he snapped the book shut and laid it in Hannibal’s hand.

Hannibal took the book and paid for it, then handed Will his books. “What drew you to this particular volume?”

Ducking his head, Will took them. “I...feeling. I touched it and I just knew I had to open it.”

“As though you were drawn to it,” Hannibal said, proudly. “We’ll have to have a closer look later tonight,” he said, with a smile, and walked with Will back to the tailor.

“I was.” Books tucked under one arm, Will followed, right at Hannibal’s side. His things were ready right when they walked in.

Hannibal accepted the bundle of Will’s new clothing and took a hooded cloak for him. It was much more carefully made than the last one, of thicker fabric, and a shade of blue-grey that brought out Will’s eyes. Hannibal smiled his approval as he looked it over, and then presented it to Will. “You seemed uncomfortable under the eyes of passers-by. I noticed a number of heads turning on the street.”

Setting his books down on the counter for a moment, Will turned so Hannibal could drape the new robe around his shoulders. The fabric was already much less shabby, and the color far from anything the council would have given him, let alone approve of. “I didn’t notice.”

“I did,” Hannibal said, with a smile, and stepped back onto the street with Will, heading back toward where they’d left the ship at the temple. “Better?”

Hood up, Will felt safer in the confines of it. As much as he disliked the robes and tunics, he found a safety in them that no other clothes could provide him from the outside world. “Much better, thank you.”

“The color _is_ quite becoming on you,” Hannibal mentioned, as they walked together, as though he was just noticing the way the pale grey and blue hues looked against Will’s milky skin.

A flush crept along Will’s cheeks and ears, hidden away under the cloak, thankfully. “Thank you. You have a good eye.”

Hannibal had a good eye, and those eyes had been trained on Will since they’d met. “You are easy to dress,” Hannibal said, smiling. “A natural canvas for nearly every style and color, I’d imagine.”

Peeking out at Hannibal from under the hood, Will watched him as they made their way through the crowds once more, the sea of people easily parting for them. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were fond of me.”

Hannibal’s chest rose and fell under his tailored robes, and he smiled a little to himself. “Thankfully, you know better,” he said, dryly, eyes sparkling.

“Thankfully I do.” A warmth spread through Will in seeing that look in Hannibal’s eyes. No other Master had ever looked at him without contempt before, and yet Hannibal treasured Will’s nature only a day in after the meeting.

They reached the ship, which Hannibal opened, and stepped inside. “We understand one another, in that case,” he said, over his shoulder, and set the bundle of Will’s new clothing on one of the seats.

Following suit, Will set his books down with his clothes and moved into the captain's chair, but looked at Hannibal first to be sure he didn’t want to steer his own vessel home. “I think that’s what will make this apprenticeship work.”

Hannibal gestured for Will to take the captain’s seat and sat down gracefully next to him. “Our mutual understanding? Yes. I agree. We are … alike.”

Taking up the control once more, Will initiated the launch sequence with a grin, boyish and wide this time, glinty teeth peeking out. “Agreed.”

Hannibal smiled back, openly showing teeth that were less even and more wild-looking than one might expect from his refined exterior. He softened his smile, conscious of them, and looked through Will’s book of mythological creatures again. “Have you ever heard of the Wendigo before, Will?”

“No, not until I saw that.” They lifted off and out of the atmosphere once more, back home. Will’s chest fluttered at the thought of Hannibal’s home being where he belonged now.

“They have quite a reputation, like our mysterious Sith,” Hannibal said, thoughtfully. “They are among the most feared creatures in the universe, the apex predator of any world they happen to inhabit.”

“Are you saying they do exist then?” Will asked, a quick glance over at Hannibal, gazing at his fine features once and then his eyes were back on the starry field in front of him, moving them back down into the planet once more to dock.

“The things that exist in the space between hard reality and pure imagination are real, in a sense, to those who speak of them, believe in them. The idea of a wendigo is just as, if not more important than a wendigo of flesh and bone. The killer is using the imagery of a wendigo’s razor-sharp antlers and stature to create the same ripple of fear in the worlds he’s inhabited as an actual wendigo would. In the end, the difference is trivial. They both bring fear and death wherever they go.”

Once docked, Will paused and watched Hannibal a moment before he stood. “Got all that from the book, did you?” He gathered his new clothes and the rest of his books.

“Mythology is one of my most passionate hobbies,” Hannibal said as he handed Will his things, admiring him once again before he stood, and walked back to the house with him … to their home. “Including wendigo.”

“Is it now?” Will followed and into the apartment once more. He walked his things to his room and set them on his bed, and then returned, taking off his cloak to hang by the door, representing his place in the household for now.

Hannibal touched Will’s cloak where it hung. Even the river-blue color of it looked perfect against Hannibal’s wall like it always belonged there like Will had always belonged with him. “Did your orchid greet you, Will?”

“It did. I gave her a little more water,” Will said, quite happily, book in hand.

“Her? Have you named her?” Hannibal asked, as he removed his own cloak, gracefully, and moved into his kitchen to pour them both a glass of wine.

“Not yet. I felt ‘her’ was a better term than ‘it’. Felt right.” Will took a seat on the couch, in the corner, kicking off his boots below him, and then curled his feet up, opening his book.

Hannibal offered Will a glass of the wine he had enjoyed so much before and sat with him to look over his book. “Perhaps with time.”

“Names are tricky things,” Will commented, taking the glass and then moving so their thighs touched where they sat, putting the book over their legs to look at together.

“So they are, they carry with them associations and deeper meanings. I trust you are aware of the associations carried by your own first name?” Hannibal asked as Will shared the book between their laps.

“Protector, or warrior, I believe,” Will answered, flipping the pages to the wendigo once more, his eyes never leaving the pages, his arm brushing Hannibal’s as he moved.

“There was, long ago, an ancient order of beings that were much more intimately connected to the Force than the Jedi are today. They were known individually as Shamen, but collectively, they were the Ancient Order of the Whills. The Whills were powerful, and through their close connection to the Force itself, rumored to have achieved immortality. Through their immortality, they became historians of the galaxy itself,” Hannibal explained. “Upon hearing your name, and of your own unique connection to the Force, particularly that of emotional states, I could not help but think of our ancient predecessors.”

“I had no idea.” Will looked up into Hannibal’s eyes then, happy to have been found by him and taken in. He was learning for once, and no longer a burden, or so he hoped. “That’s a nice connection to make, actually.”

“I am disappointed that no one had explained this to you, before,” Hannibal said. “It would not surprise me, in the least, to find that Will is an ancient family name, passed down to you by force-sensitive ancestors. Your abilities suggest a more direct connection to the Force than modern Jedi are able to achieve, even with years of training. Tell me, Will, have you become more powerful with training or have you always been able to look into the minds of those around you?”

“I’ve just always done it since I can remember. It’s honed, of course, since training, but again, there aren’t many who want to train me when I can see into them so clearly.” Will sighed, trying not to think of all the times he’d been ‘dumped’. “You don’t mind though.”

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve been seen,” Hannibal said, honestly, and softly. “Not since I was a boy. Far from minding, I find our interactions exhilarating, nearly addictive.”

“It’s only been a day,” Will pointed out, but sat up straighter, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder. He was comfortable in ways he couldn’t put into words, defenses down in the comfort of their shared home. He flipped through the book some more, and then took a sip of the wine in his free hand.

“It feels like much longer, doesn’t it?” Hannibal asked as the world narrowed down to a comfortable bubble around himself and Will. “Depth and length of association are not the same.”

“Our… friendship is deeper, no need for longer association if we understand one another already.” Will resisted the urge to lay his head on Hannibal’s shoulder for comfort, aware it wasn’t the right the thing to do with his Master.

Hannibal felt the urge and reached up to guide Will’s head to his shoulder as they sat together. In quiet moments, like this, their impulses were shared and the skin that separated them was a mere formality. “Friendship is like a wound; the shallow are largely inconsequential, no matter how long they may stretch. A deep wound and a deep friendship can change one’s life, forever, in a moment.”

Hannibal’s scent was a familiar one already, easing Will into relaxing against him, while the wine did the rest of the work. “I’m glad to be your friend and your padawan, Hannibal.”

“Likewise, Will, I am glad to be your friend, and Master,” Hannibal whispered, and allowed his fingers to strum slowly through Will’s soft, brown curls, then moved to the back of Will’s neck so that his warm palm could rest there.

Scooting in a little closer, Will shifted only a little under Hannibal’s shoulders. Being close only felt right considering their minds had nearly melded the night before. “Would you prefer I call you Master Lecter or Hannibal?”

“Hannibal,” he responded, softly. “I prefer the informal, with you.”

Will tilted his head up to meet Hannibal’s gaze once more, smiling at him up close. “Okay. Hannibal in private, behind closed doors. I’ll refer to you as Master in public though.”

“Our public relationship will always have to be somewhat more formal and distant than our private relationship, regrettably,” Hannibal said, in a whisper. “I fear we may have attracted their attention in the temple, today.”

“Did we?” Will’s sea-blue eyes went wide, and he licked his lips once, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I should have held in my outburst.”

Hannibal’s dark eyes shone with a smile, and he let his hand slide to Will’s shoulder. “I rather think Jack deserved it.”

“Deserving or not, it wasn’t my place.” Will all but snuggled into Hannibal’s side, resting against him, the book was forgotten for now as their closeness grew.

“I’d argue that it was much more the place of a fiery young padawan to reflect Master Crawford’s bad behavior back to him than the place of a seasoned Master,” Hannibal said, approvingly.

“Well, Master Yoda didn’t disagree with you,” Will laughed lightly and took a long sip of the wine, letting it coat his tongue, the taste sweeter today.

“Master Yoda is routinely the voice of reason,” Hannibal chuckled. “One of the few who begins to approach your ability to see the potential in others.”

“I think he’s the reason I was given over to you, to train.” Will took another sip, relaxed. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, I’d be off… doing not such exciting things.”

“Remind me to thank Master Yoda,” Hannibal whispered. “For his uncanny wisdom.”

Rosied cheeked, Will gazed at Hannibal with a growing smile. “He might read into that more than we should let him.”

“I believe he’s already done precisely that,” Hannibal said, thinking of the moment when their hands touched, in front of Yoda and Crawford.

It was then Will understood, realization lighting his features. “Oh.” He set his glass down on the table in front of them and settled back into Hannibal’s hold. “He… won’t move me from you will he?”

Hannibal seemed to consider the prospect, and his arm wound more tightly around Will’s shoulders. “No.” Hannibal’s answer was certain and absolute. “I would not permit it.”

A sigh of relief escaped Will’s lips and his chest seemed to sink from a held breath. “Good. I’m already happier with you than I’ve been with anyone else.”

Hannibal swallowed, thickly, and laid his head over Will’s, dark eyes closed as they snuggled together. “My happiness has not been tied to the presence of another person for a very long time. I have found happiness in beauty, in justice exacted, even in darkness, where I can find it. To be made happy by another person is strange, and precarious.”

“I make you happy?” Will’s brows furrowed slightly, not wanting to hear that perhaps he doesn’t, or not yet, but he was sure with their bond, ever growing, perhaps he was not alone.

“More honestly than I have been in years,” Hannibal confessed. He opened his eyes, head still resting over Will’s, and suddenly, Hannibal’s eyes were completely black, without iris or pupil, a void as black as ancient space, in a time before stars.

Will pressed his palm into Hannibal’s chest, over his heart, feeling the beat, as if feeling the void, and wanting to fill it. “I’m glad. Even if I am growing attached.”

Hannibal’s strange black eyes shone with happiness, and he closed them, again. “Are you?”

A moment passed, and Will breathed out; “Yes.”

Hannibal turned his head and allowed himself to smell Will’s hair before he pulled Will closer, gently, so that Will was resting against his chest. His heart slammed wildly in his chest beneath Will’s palm, as though it was trying to beat it’s way through the cage of his ribs, to Will.

Will closed his eyes and reached out with his mind to touch Hannibal’s, to get beyond the reality they were in and past the gates, the castle. He wanted to see his own world surround Hannibal’s once more, where his stream ran rapid, and his forest grew around tall, stone walls.

Hannibal joined Will, slipping into their shared world where he found Will in the castle of his mind. “What a world we’ve made, Will.”

“A place for both of us,” Will said, looking around at their shared world, their memory palace, away from the world, the universe, everything.

The doors inside Hannibal’s castle opened smoothly for Will, admitting him to opulent, precisely decorated rooms beyond, and a wide, white marble staircase that climbed higher and higher. Paintings lined the stairwell’s walls, most of them of another castle against a dark night sky, but the largest was of a little girl with golden hair.

Will climbed, gazing at each one, but stopped at the portrait of the girl. Curious. “Who is this?”

Hannibal swallowed hard, watching as Will explored his orderly, organized mind, climbing the highest tower. “Mischa.” The lights inside the castle dimmed a little when he said her name, like flags being lowered in respect to the dead.

“A… daughter? Sister?” Will asked, touching the painting. “Did you paint this?”

“A sister who was mine to raise, for a time,” Hannibal whispered, and could feel the touch to the painting he’d created in the first days after she was lost, where he’d put so much of the grief of being attached, and then ripped free, too soon.

“So much pain…” Will sighed, heavily, feeling every inch of it through their connection. He could see why attachment was hard, why they shouldn’t have it if it created so much pain for others. Pain was weakness to Jedi, leading to worse emotions.

“Yes. I loved her,” Hannibal whispered. “As my sister, as my child,” he sighed, heavily, and the very stones of the castle seemed to sigh with him, to sink a little from their perfectly plumb lines around the girl’s portrait. The pale stone that was whole in all other parts of the castle showed winding cracks that radiated outward from Mischa’s image. The hairline cracks widened now, like dark veins dilating under stress. This was a loss that had nearly destroyed Hannibal’s entire structure.

Will touched the cracks, as if wanting to feel that pain, take it away. “I’m sorry,” Will whispered, his own loss of family seemed so insignificant.

“Thank you. It was … long ago,” Hannibal murmured, his eyes still inky and black where Will could not see them. It was a relief to shed a little of his person suit for a moment, even if Will was not yet aware it existed.

“How do you deal with that?” Will asked but didn’t expect an answer. This much pain, swelling in the walls, surrounding him, was cloying and dark, hard to ignore. It was if he were sitting right inside of Hannibal, in his very core, walking the halls of his very mind.

“I do not visit this place often,” Hannibal murmured. “It is fashioned after the tower in the castle where we were children, the place we played the most often. She adored the birds that lived around the tower windows, and the tiny, delicate insects made of light that hummed around it.”

“It’s beautiful,” Will whispered, running his hand along the wall as he took another step up the tower, taking in every bit of Hannibal that he could.

More tiny insects made of light made lazy circles in the air closer to the top of the tower, the only source of light at the end of the stairs. The room at the top was circular and surrounded by small, arched windows that housed brilliant red and blue birds that fluttered their wings as they pecked seed off of the ledges. A small table and chair sat under one window, with what looked like a toy version of a baby deer, with small antlers that laid on the table top with some childish drawings beneath it.

“When were you here last?” Will asked, stepping into the room, he reached the table, and picked up the toy, turning it over and around. It was… familiar. Everything had a reason in here, everything in Hannibal’s memories were suspended in time for a reason.

“Years ago, before I became a Jedi,” Hannibal replied, softly. One of the little birds sang at Will, a childish, repeating song before it hopped onto the table and looked at him with shiny, black eyes.

Looking from the toy to the bird, Will turned it around in his hand once more and then set it on the table, upright. “You must have been very young then.”

“I had barely ceased being a child, myself,” Hannibal admitted. “Our parents were killed, and I became her guardian. She did not survive long,” he said, in a whisper. When he spoke of Mischa’s death, the bright birds turned black, and then to stone.

The room seemed to grow colder with it, and Will took a few steps back, that strange darkness he kept feeling threatening to engulf him here. “So much tragedy,” he whispered.

“Life is loss,” Hannibal said, simply. “It’s best to embrace it, accept it. To fight the inevitable is madness.”

Will only nodded, taking the steps out of the room, back down the steps, slowly. The darkness in there was too much, like suffocating. It wasn’t a place he should have seen, or been in.

There were darker places in the castle, deep pits in the basement that no light reached. Mischa’s tower, however, was the most deeply personal and had never been designed for a visitor’s eyes. “There are more pleasant rooms, downstairs.”

“Where are _you_?” Will asked, taking the steps quickly down the tower and into the main part once more. He was tempted to pull back, but longing to know his Master better kept him there.

“Follow the sound of music,” Hannibal replied as the sound of a complex melody drifted up the stairs. The notes were clear and delicate, expertly played.

Will wandered down the stairs, reaching the main floor, following the sound until he reached it. “Hannibal?”

The music was clearest in a large, stately drawing room where Hannibal sat at a keyboard, playing without sheet music. In his mind, his hair was cropped shorter, and he was wearing elegant clothing that had nothing to do with Jedi robes. Behind him, a fire crackled in a wide fireplace, beneath a painting of a dark stag near a flowering tree. “Hello, Will,” he said, as he looked up at Will, in the doorway.

Seeing Hannibal in such a state was breathtaking. A spark coursed through him as it had when their hands touched earlier. He walked closer, taking in his surroundings, every last detail. “What room is this one?”

“A room for my favorite pieces of art,” Hannibal replied, still playing as he watched Will move closer. The high walls of the drawing room were filled with beautiful works of art from various systems, all of them exquisite and reconstructed in Hannibal’s mind in flawless detail.

“Your attachments,” Will chuckled as he stepped closer, eyes wandering back to Hannibal once he was only a few feet from him.

“My troublesome attachments,” Hannibal agreed, with a smile, and stopped playing to stand, and look at Will. “I’ve hidden them all here, far from prying eyes. This was my favorite as a young man, a painting I studied in a gallery, on Naboo.” He guided Will to the painting and sat on the bench in front of it.

Taking a seat, Will smiled, hands on the bench, palms flat. He leaned back a little to get a good view. “You have an eye for it. You could have done a lot of things, but here you are, a Jedi instead.”

“I found myself a force-sensitive orphan with no other family, becoming a Jedi was the most valuable path at the time,” Hannibal said, staring at Will’s profile more than at the painting. “I do not regret my choice.”

“Well, I, for one, am glad you picked this path, too,” Will said and looked over at Hannibal, smiling brighter when their eyes met. Even in their minds, Will could not deny his attraction to his Master, ever growing as their minds entwined, and the roots of Will’s forest reinforced the structure of Hannibal’s castle.

“Where do you keep your attachments, Will?” Hannibal asked with interest. An unfinished painting rested on an easel in the corner, bearing the image of a handsome young man with dark hair.

Will’s mind palace was a vast forest and a stream, no compartments for memories of attachments, a blank slate, ready to create some. “I haven’t any. Having attachments is a risk. I’ve never been in one spot long enough to create one. Or the want to.” He looked past Hannibal at the unfinished painting, standing to walk a little closer.

Hannibal stood at the same time and followed Will. “Your mind is a mass of association, I imagine everything you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present, yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. You have no forts in the bone arena of your skull for the things you love … if you loved anything,” Hannibal noted.

“I never have,” Will stated, eyes on the painting. It was him. His heart raced and he looked back at Hannibal. “Not yet anyway.”

Hannibal watched Will realize that he was the subject of Hannibal’s painting in progress, standing behind Will to stare at the painting that was only half-complete, but already beautiful. “Mythology is only one of my hobbies.”

“Apparently,” Will said and turned completely to face Hannibal. “Is that one to hang here with all your other attachments?”

Hannibal stood very close to Will, staring at the shape of his lips as he asked the question. “Would you object?”

“No,” Will whispered, swallowing once and then wet his lips subconsciously when Hannibal stared at them.

“You would be the only living subject of a portrait in the castle,” Hannibal said and looked from Will’s pink lips to his eyes. “Every other portrait I have has been a memorial.”

“I don’t know if that bodes well for me, or if I should be flattered,” Will murmured as an electric charge shot down his spine when their eyes met.

“Why not both, Will?” Hannibal asked, with a gleam in his eyes. The red walls of the drawing room made Will’s skin look like snow, in contrast, like Hoth after a storm.

“Keeping me on my toes?” Will canted his head slightly, a glimmer of humor in his eyes.

“I’d hate to bore you,” Hannibal whispered, and admired Will’s throat when he tilted his head.

“On the contrary,” Will said, “I think it’s me that would end up boring you.”

Hannibal laughed aloud, showing his teeth again, for a moment. “I would have to be exceptionally fickle.”

“You’re not?” Will teased and took another step forward, head tilted to meet Hannibal’s eyes. Even in their shared space of their minds, Will could not find it in himself to be far from his new Master.

“Far from it,” Hannibal assured Will as he committed his features to memory, yet again. “When I become passionate about something, I can become rather obsessive.”

“It’s only been a day,” Will repeated, but he knew that hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. Hannibal was his other half, a piece of himself that had been missing, even when he wasn’t aware he was missing it.

“A day, and we are already in each other’s heads,” Hannibal pointed out. “Could you have imagined allowing any of your classmates into your head, after knowing them for years, Will?”

“No.” Will still wasn’t sure why he let Hannibal in, but the connection was immediate, like a limb that had been torn off and put back on.

“Then what difference does it make, a day, or a decade? Most chemical reactions are dependent on the reagents, and the bonds they destroy and create between them, not the amount of time they spend in contact, Will.”

It felt so much deeper than a bond, on some other level completely.

Will stepped closer, so they were toe-to-toe, at least in their minds. “Point taken.”

“I have never been so tempted to remain here,” Hannibal confessed, almost against Will’s cheek.

“Afraid matters of the heart will change when we step back into the real world?” Will asked, quietly, and touched his fingers to Hannibal’s waist.

Hannibal closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Will’s, their noses brushing. “What we do in the real world, as master and padawan, carries with it real consequences,” he murmured, well aware that what they did with their minds was only slightly less real.

Eyes hooded, Will breathed out slowly, taking a moment to enjoy the closeness, for what it was here, real or not. “That’s true.This is a place for just us. No rules.” Hannibal allowed himself to touch the side of Will’s smooth face with his palm, cupping his cheek. “As it should be.”

“Now I don’t want to leave here,” Will whispered, inching his fingers around Hannibal until they clasped at the small of his back.

The shirt Hannibal wore here was thinner than his robes in the physical world, the muscles of his back could be felt cleared through the delicate cloth under Will’s hand. “No matter where we are, we will always have this place.”

“I’ll always know where to find you.” Hopefully, it would never come to the point that this was the only place Will would be able to find Hannibal.

Hannibal wrapped his long arms around Will’s back, holding him for the first time with a hard swallow. “We are conjoined at the mind, Will.”

Will’s arms wrapped around Hannibal with that, resting against him, chest-to-chest. Relief filled his body, tension leaving his limbs. “Yes, we are.”


	3. Chapter 3

A week passed in peace. Will and Hannibal developed a routine, of sorts: breakfast, work on the cases, lunch, time in their shared minds, errands in the outside world, meditation, and then a late dinner. Will was becoming remarkably better at meditation under Hannibal’s care.

A knock at the door late one afternoon brought an interruption to their routine. “Master Chilton,” Hannibal said, evenly, as he opened the door, “and Master Froideveaux… How can I help you?”

“Hannibal,” Chilton said, as he stepped past him, and into the house, followed by a portly, smiling Jedi behind him who tried to hug Hannibal around the shoulders. “Where’s your padawan?”

Will heard the door and stepped out of his room, jolted from meditation and caring for his orchid. Barefoot, he padded over to Hannibal, standing close. “Here.”

Chilton looked Will over and frowned at how close Will stood to Hannibal. “Will and Hannibal … How goes the hunt for the killer?” Chilton asked, looking between them.

“Quite well,” Hannibal answered, “we’re making progress, slow, but steady. Master Crawford has been keeping us abreast of new developments when there are any. Has he sent you?”

“Is this a … bad time?” Chilton asked, looking between them, again.

Will narrowed his gaze a little and then look at Hannibal, taking one step back. “Not at all. Just meditation time.” He looked at the other Jedi. “Who is this?”

The rotund Jedi smiled at Will and stepped forward to take his hand with both hands, and shook it over and over. “I’m Franklyn! You’re Will. I’ve heard so, so much about you, and I’m so excited to be able to work with you!”

“Work with me?” Will asked, blinking at Franklyn and then looked at Hannibal and Master Chilton.

“I recommended to the council, after hearing how _close_ you two are working together, that having Master Froideveaux assist would probably be … helpful. He can observe your process so that we can teach it to some of the younger padawans,” Chilton said, smugly. “After a healthy discussion, the council agreed. Here we are.” Franklyn just smiled, beaming at both Will and Hannibal as he took off his shoes, which made Hannibal shift his jaw. 

“That’s very kind of you,” Hannibal muttered, with some tension. “But Will and I would be loathe to use the council’s resources when we can manage well on our own.” 

“Nonsense, Hannibal,” Chilton laughed. “We’re happy to help, aren’t we, Franklyn?” “ _Very_ happy to help,” Franklyn said, as he sat on Hannibal’s couch, crushing one of the silk pillows after he helped himself to a glass of the wine that was set out on the table, and slurped it down, loudly.

“He’s… _staying_ here?” Will asked, clearly not fond of the idea, but kept much of his disdain to himself. “Or is it just for our investigations?”

“I’d love to stay! This is a full-time investigation, right? I won’t be any trouble. I’m an excellent guest,” Franklyn said, enthusiastically. “We can talk about it, all night, pursue leads…”

“That’s unnecessary, Master Froideveaux. Not to mention Will is installed in the guest room, and I haven’t another,” Hannibal said, with a glare at Chilton.

“Oh,” Franklyn sighed, crestfallen. “Well, I can … I’ll find lodging somewhere close, in that case.”

“You have to have a place to live already,” Will insisted, trying not to be rude, and wandered over to the couch to perch on the side of it. “We can call on you when we’re called out.”

“I’m much closer to the temple,” Franklyn said, in a smaller voice, “and there … there has been a development. That’s why I’m here to help.” Hannibal sighed through his nose and looked at Chilton, pale eyebrows raised. “Another killing. I promised Master Crawford I’d let you know. A body found in a hunter’s cabin on Chandrila. Master Crawford wanted young Will to have a look at it, he thinks it’s the work of this mysterious Sith.”

At that, Will perked up. “I’ll get my boots.” He slipped from the sofa once more, padding off to his room to gather his things. He returned a few minutes later dressed more appropriately for traveling off world.

When Will returned, Chilton was gone, and Franklyn was bent over, wrestling his boots on with difficulty as Hannibal watched with a disdainful expression. “It seems our moment of tranquility is over,” Hannibal sighed, speaking to Will.

“Sooner we go see, the better,” Will insisted, quietly, and grabbed his cloak. He wrapped it around himself and tied it.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been off of Coruscant,” Franklyn said, cheerily, standing between Will and Hannibal with a big smile at his two new friends. “I hope I’m dressed for it. Your robes are so nice.” Franklyn kept talking, nervously, almost without taking a breath as Hannibal opened the door for them and they headed to his ship.

“Did you want me to pilot?” Will asked Hannibal, clearly avoiding any of Franklyn’s question or jabbering. How this Jedi was supposed to help them, he had no idea.

“Please,” Hannibal said, quite aware that Franklyn was certainly not meant to help them. His robes flared a little behind him as they boarded the ship, and Franklyn looked around, remarking on everything that met his eyes. _We can, of course, speak this way,_ Hannibal’s voice said in Will’s mind. _Our chaperone seems incapable of an internal monologue._

 _Good_. Will got into the pilot’s seat and started the ship up, getting everything set. _You don’t suppose they suspect, do you? We’re not technically doing anything wrong._

 _I believe Master Chilton has clung to rumors that we’re rather too close. It’s an opportunity for him to assert what he understands is his superiority and righteousness._ Hannibal sat in the passenger seat, and Franklyn sat next to him, chattering away despite the disinterested look on Hannibal’s face.

Will rolled his eyes as he lifted them into the air, and they took off into space. The sooner the better indeed. He punched the coordinates in and gave a look to Hannibal. _Shouldn’t a Master and his Padawan be close? I’ve been doing better._

“Of course, none of those compare to a good Corellian cheese-” Franklyn said, with a laugh, and began another monologue as he looked between Will and Hannibal, continuously.

 _Close, but not attached. Even to an outside view, it appears that you and I share attachment,_ Hannibal said, and looked at Franklyn with as much tolerance for his prattling as he could manage.

 _I suppose we need to tone it down a little_. Will sighed, inwardly mostly, giving the other Jedi a look as they took off into hyperspace.

 _As you’ve said, nothing we have done is technically against the rules,_ Hannibal said. _But, yes, we will have to be careful around others._

 _I’ll be more careful._ Will sat back, relaxing a little as they moved through hyperspace quickly. He then turned to Franklyn. “Have you ever seen a dead body before?”

“Are-” Franklyn looked from Hannibal to Will. “Are we … going to look at a body?” he asked. “I thought droids … did that. No, no, I haven’t.”

“That’s what they call us in for,” Will explained, slowing them from hyperspace and into the planet’s atmosphere. “You may not want to approach the scene then.”

“Oh, I can do it,” Franklyn assured them, puffing up his chest. “There’s no problem there. I can go in with you. It’s … just a body, after all. Dead, but … just a body.” Franklyn rubbed his palms over his knees, rubbing sweat from them onto his robes.

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Will maneuvered them to a docking bay, and settled the ship down, turning it off. He gathered himself up in his robes, and palmed the door open and the ramp down.

Police officers waited to escort the Jedi and Padawan to the crime scene. Hannibal walked beside Will but remained a foot away as Franklyn trailed after them. They were led down a rural road, in a land of green, rolling hills that overlooked calm seas. “It’s lovely,” Hannibal said, looking over the idyllic landscape.

“It’s beautiful here,” Will added, nodding as they walked over a hill, toward a larger pasture, with many droids already there.

There had gathered, by the time they arrived, a few onlookers, mostly men in summer clothing who watched the crime scene from behind a barrier. Most of the men were in pairs, some holding hands as they watched the Jedi approach. “Chandrilla is known for its beautiful climate and inversion of social norms from other planets in the core system. Here, it is normal for same-sex couples to marry, not opposite-sex couples,” Hannibal said, calmly, watching Will’s expression.

Franklyn gawked openly at the men but said nothing, his mouth open.

“How nice to be seen so freely,” Will commented a slight look at Hannibal, but Franklyn wasn’t sure to notice.

Hannibal returned the look, brief, but meaningful, and his eyes slipped down to Will’s hand for a second, the memory of how it felt in his own when they’d created their shared world imprinted on his mind. “It’s a lovely place,” Hannibal agreed, softly. The officers waved the Jedi toward a cabin surrounded by a grove of trees, and one of them approached Hannibal to introduce himself as the lead investigator. “Master Lecter, the body is in the cabin. It looks as though she’s been carved like ….” the officer took a deep breath, “like she’s been hunted for meat.” The officer put his hand on the door and hesitated. “You think it might be that Sith?”

“Fits the criteria,” Will said, sighing. “But we’ll need to see to know for certain.”

“Alright, whenever you’re ready,” the officer agreed, and stepped away from the door, leaving it open.

Hannibal nodded to Will and stepped into the cabin first. The inside of the hunter's cabin was filled with antlers from various creatures he’d hunted in the woods. Antlers hung on the walls, even from the ceiling, and curtains made from torn fabric obscured sunlight from penetrating the gloomy, narrow interior. On a wooden work table in the middle of the room was the body of a young woman with dark hair. The dead woman was partially skinned, the skin that had been removed hung over a rack to be dried out, and some of her organs had already been carved out of her with care. Her light eyes stared upward at the ceiling with pinpoint pupils, and the smell of death hung thick in the air.

“We walked in on someone’s private food storage,” Will murmured, swallowing down the nerves in his throat as they walked closer. He leaned over the dead woman and sighed. “Not our Sith though.”

Franklyn walked in, behind Will, looked at the body, and promptly walked out to vomit. Relieved, Hannibal stood next to Will, shoulder to shoulder, hand on his back now that they were alone. “What makes you so certain, Will?”

“Well, for one, she’s taken care of, prepared with love. Two,” Will began, pointing to where she was cut in places. “These are from a blade, not a Lightsaber. Third, this isn’t art. Someone left their food behind.”

Hannibal smiled at Will’s deduction and nodded. “This is utilitarian in the extreme. It is unlikely he meant to leave any part of her behind. How long ago was our killer here?” Hannibal asked his pupil, with pride.

“A day maybe. There’s not much decay. Our killer will return, or might be trying to right now and is watching us,” Will said, looking over at Hannibal. “He’s done this before, the same sort of women.”

“Can you sense a reason why? What drives him to satisfy this compulsion?” Hannibal asked, calmly, tilting his head as he examined the crude cuts to the body and its organs. “He’s taken the liver, thymus, the heart.”

Will closed his eyes for a moment, fingers brushing over the woman’s hand. “He’s… has a daughter that looks like them. The women he kills. They all look similar.”

“He wishes to keep her,” Hannibal guessed, easily, as he watched Will’s pink fingers ghost over the girl’s dead, grey hand. It was beautiful, the contrast of death and Will’s vibrant life beneath his skin. “He fears loss. Eating her flesh keeps her close to him, permanently.”

“He doesn’t want to kill his daughter, so he kills and eats those who resemble her.” Will opened his eyes, moving his hand from the woman to Hannibal’s, just barely touching.

Hannibal curled his fingers around Will’s and fitted their palms together. “Attachment drives men like this killer to deadly extremes,” Hannibal noted, softly. “He is desperate to avoid pain. Can we find him?”

“He lives locally. Has to,” Will said and squeezed Hannibal’s hand, the charge between them growing the longer they touched. “We look for families with an only female child.”

“What sort of man is he? Highly educated? Working class?” Hannibal asked, helping Will to sort through the information he sensed.

“Working class. A miner works with his hands,” Will explained.

“We’ll tell the officers, and in the meantime, I think meditation might bring clarity,” Hannibal said, sagely.

“Here?” Will asked, but he knew that a clearer mind would help him track down the killer since he was someone simple, not a Sith.

“We are tracking a normal man, a man who has not likely gone far from here. I am confident that if you clear your mind, and focus your abilities, perhaps you can sense his presence among the others near us,” Hannibal said. “He cannot block your mind, he cannot disappear into shadow as a Sith can.”

“I thought so, too.” Will looked around them, searching for a spot he could take up to sit, to surround himself with the man who owned this small cabin.

Hannibal removed his own cloak and spread it over the ground to provide a clean space for Will to sit on for his meditation. “I have a spare in the ship,” Hannibal said, with a soft smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Thank you,” Will said, sincerely, sat on the cloak, cross-legged, and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself a part of the killer, as him. A man, carefully taking apart the woman on the table, well-worn hands, a man who would do anything for his family.

Deeper Will went, moving back in time to the point the male humanoid decided on his target, at the local education center, and further back, to his work. The mines, just as Will thought, and even further back into the day, his home, quaint and small, living as far from technology as possible.

“The woods.”

Hannibal was crouched, gazing at Will as he meditated. “Can you bring us there, Will?” He was, in every respect, a remarkable boy. Hannibal had known as much the moment they met, in the council chambers.

“Yes.” Will pulled himself out. His eyes opened slowly, gazing at Hannibal. “He’ll know we’re here looking for him though. We’ve found his nest.”

“Then it’s best we find him before he runs, or worse,” Hannibal said, his face close to Will’s. Heat from Hannibal’s skin warmed Will’s, gently.

To be physically close, and not just in their shared mind world, was tempting, but Will didn’t take his opportunity. They a killer to catch and something to prove. “Let’s go.” Will rose to his feet, and picked up Hannibal’s cloak, shaking it out twice.

Hannibal took his cloak, brushed it off, and put it on before opening the front door for Will, releasing him to the world like a hunting dog to pursue their prey. “After you.”

Out in the light of day once more, Will ignored Franklyn’s bumbling when he saw them exit. He focused on the presence of the man who had been in the cabin, tracing it across open fields and hills, to edge where a forest of trees started. It wasn’t too far, and well hidden, but Will honed in; he could find him. He started off west, aware the others would follow.

Hannibal followed Will, closely, both of them walking too quickly for Franklyn to keep up with, who led the others. They reached a small, stone house close to a lake. “This is it?” Hannibal asked, struck by the banality of the house, when the door opened and a woman staggered out, clutching her slit throat with both hands. She choked and sputtered, her shirt soaked with red, and then fell to her knees.

Will ran up, hand on his lightsaber, and knelt near the woman as he fell to the ground, and tried to find the spot to stop her bleeding, but it was of no use. Hands shaking, Will stood, taking his weapon from his belt this time, igniting it to light his way into the house, stance defensive.

Hannibal followed, watching Will with fascinated eyes, his own lightsaber in hand, but not ignited, yet. Around the corner, in the kitchen, was a man with watery blue eyes, a knife to a girl’s throat as he breathed heavily. Sure enough, the girl looked just like the girl on the table in the cabin: same hair color, same eye color, same height.

“Let her go and put your weapon down,” Will said, as sternly as he could manage to be, voice wavering, but the thrill of the hunt was pushing him to go on.

The man only looked at Will, and then once to Hannibal behind him, and shook his head. He slipped the knife against her neck and quickly pulled it through to slide her wide open, blood pouring and spouting all over. Will didn’t have time to save her, to stop him, as she did as her mother had and fell to the ground, gargling her own blood. In a flash, heat boiling through his core and spreading through his veins, Will launched himself at the man, knocking the knife from his grip. He kicked him down, landing on him, and before he could think about consequence and action, he stabbed the tip of his lightsaber right through his heart.

Hannibal watched from behind Will, the pupils of his eyes wide as he watched Will drive his lightsaber through the killer’s chest, without hesitation. The killer’s eyes fixed on Will’s wide and pale, his mouth open as he watched Will’s face, distorted with rage, above him. “See?” he gasped, “see?” His head sank to the floor, dead.

Hannibal stepped closer, and crouched behind Will, touching his shoulder with one hand as Franklyn stumbled in with police officers. “Is … “ Franklyn hurried out, again, leaving the police to witness the Padawan’s kill.

Will finally breathed again at Hannibal’s touch, disengaging his weapon. He looked over his shoulder and then stood, stepping back from the killer. “He won’t be killing anyone else.”

“You’ve cauterized an infection,” Hannibal agreed, and kept his hand against Will’s back, supporting him as he looked at the blood spatter on Will’s face. He marveled at the way blood made Will somehow even more striking, and felt his own dark heart grow even more profoundly attached to his deadly Padawan.

“I…” Will had let emotion guide him, no sense, and he wondered what sort of punishment would be given from the council for this one.

“You’ve done well,” Hannibal assured him, able to see Will begin to struggle to explain what he’d done. “You moved without hesitation. He would never have stopped killing, Will. He had to be stopped.”

“He could have been apprehended,” Will insisted, Lightsaber still in his hand as he looked at Hannibal, the police and droids coming in around them.

Hannibal guided Will from the blood-soaked house, out into the deceptively serene yard where the girl’s mother laid, dead. “If we’d encountered him alone, perhaps. You attempted to save his daughter’s life. There was no time for negotiation.”

“And she died anyway,” Will murmured, attaching his lightsaber back to his belt as they wandered away from the yard, away from the blood and nightmare of it all.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Hannibal agreed, with a look over his shoulder. “However, no other girls will die at his hand. Your actions were wholly justified, Will, do not doubt your instincts.”

“Will the council see it that way?” Will asked, frowning at the thought he may have just lost himself his spot with Hannibal.

“I’m certain they will,” Hannibal assured Will and used his thumb to wipe some blood spatter from under Will’s heavy lower eyelashes. “If anything, I think they may find your actions heroic.”

“Doesn't feel very heroic. No one lived.” Will tilted his chin up to look at Hannibal. He was torn between feeling great about stopping their cannibal and feeling remorse for his rage.

“Heroism isn’t determined by the outcome of your actions, but by the circumstances under which you take action,” Hannibal said, wisely. “What are you concerned the council may do, Will?”

“I’m afraid they’ll see my actions as not entirely pure.” Will sighed, standing closer to Hannibal than perhaps he should, but his mind felt like it was splintering off in many different directions at once. He needed Hannibal to be that oar.

“Were they?” Hannibal asked, openly, the look in his eyes suggesting that he was not about to judge Will for his reply, either way.

“All I saw was red and that girl dying. I wanted to snuff out his life the way he had the others.” Will’s head drooped at the thought. “I let my emotions get the best of me.”

Hannibal fought his urge to reach out and touch Will’s cheek, to stop his head from bowing in shame. He touched Will’s arm, instead, aware that they were in public. “I would argue that your emotions were the best of you, Will. You fought to protect a defenseless girl. Is that not what you’ve been told a Jedi must do?”

Shoulders slumped, Will nodded and met Hannibal’s eyes once more. “Yes. It is.”

“Your intentions were to save the girl, Will. You fought to protect the weak against the strong, and brutal. As your Master, I will defend your actions with pride.” Hannibal led Will away from the second crime scene, toward the first, and their ship.

Will cared not if Franklyn noticed or followed at all. He stayed close to his Master, reaching out with his mind to find Hannibal’s, and anchor himself to it. “Thank you.”

Hannibal’s mind embraced Will’s, entangling intimately as they walked back toward the ship. “What changed between the last time you were challenged to draw your lightsaber and failed, and the moment in the kitchen?”

“Situation. Confidence. Ability.” Will shrugged, he wasn’t entirely sure why he had the strength to stomach it now, and not before. Maybe it was Hannibal himself, believing in him.

“You moved so quickly that I had no time to as much as ignite my saber,” Hannibal said, proudly. “Had I not known, I would never have guessed that you’d ever been reluctant to take action.”

“I’ve never wanted to hurt someone before, but all I wanted was to see him stopped, for good,” Will whispered as they reached the ship.

“You found a man so bad that killing him felt good,” Hannibal whispered back, unconcerned with what Franklyn was doing back at the scene. He was out of their hair, for now.

“It felt righteous.” Will stepped onto the ramp for the ship, taking a deep, deep breath to recenter. “What’s done is done.”

Hannibal followed and shut the ramp after them so that they were alone again. “The wrath of a righteous man is a formidable thing, indeed. Were you angry?”

“Yes,” Will admitted, standing toe-to-toe with Hannibal, which felt even closer physically than it had in their minds.

“A dark emotion, for a righteous reason,” Hannibal pointed out, softly.

“Then why do I feel… wrong?” Will gazed up at Hannibal with his large, doe-like eyes.

“Because now that the rush of the moment has calmed, and you have sobered to what you were taught as a youngling, you feel shame for not adhering to their rules. Do you believe that no one on the council has ever struck another down in anger? Or that if the mysterious Sith we hunt came to the temple and slaughtered a room full of younglings that Master Yoda himself might not act in righteous fury while their blood was fresh upon the ground?”

Thinking about that for a long moment, Will nodded his head. “He would. To protect against more death.” Will understood, but it didn’t make him feel any better for it. Not yet anyway.

“Then, perhaps it is possible to forgive yourself for doing the same, Will,” Hannibal said and brushed Will’s unruly curls out of his eyes with his long fingers. “Death itself is not evil. It is a part of life, as much as the Force.”

“You’re right.” Will turned his head slightly against Hannibal’s fingers, and then stepped away when he heard someone outside of the ship. “I’ll work on that.”

A knock sounded on the door of the ship, and Franklyn tried to speak to them, through it. Hannibal sighed and took a moment to enjoy the silence. “We should let him in, and return to Coruscant.”

Nodding in understanding, Will got into the pilot seat and started up the engines. “Sooner we get rid of him the better.”

“I cannot help but agree,” Hannibal said, as he took his seat, then waved his hand to open the door. Franklyn bustled aboard, out of breath.

“They’re going to handle everything now,” he said, as he made his way to the seat behind Hannibal and sat down, noisily. “I explained I’m from the council and they’ll contact us if there’s anything else. So, was that the SIth? The … the man … back there? I can’t believe what he did to his wife, that poor woman. Was there more inside? I heard something, but-”

“No, he wasn’t the Sith. Just a man with issues,” Will answered as he began their departure. “He killed his daughter, as well.”

“Oh no,” Franklyn sighed. “Oh, that poor girl. Can you imagine? Her own father? I wish we’d arrived sooner, maybe I could have talked to him. Maybe I could have befriended him, and we could have brought him in, peacefully, without anyone dying.” Rolling his eyes, Will gave Hannibal a look. They lifted into the air and once again out of the atmosphere and back toward Coruscant. “I don’t think he had any befriending on the mind. He knew we were there and that we’d found his meat locker.”

“Franklyn has an enormous amount of confidence in his skills,” Hannibal said, with a touch of frost to his words. It took very, very little from Hannibal to make the fact sound like a reproach of the other master. Hannibal’s voice wasn’t raised for an instant, but Franklyn flinched, visibly.

“Oh … no, I don’t mean to- To suggest that I was … I just mean that sometimes all someone needs is a friend, right? Just someone to listen…” Franklyn tried to explain.

“A cannibal that wants a friend?” Will laughed out loud at that. “The last thing he wanted was to expose himself to someone else. What would you have done if he said yes? He’d already killed many times.”

“I’d … I’d just listen, I suppose,” Franklyn said, put on the spot. “Everyone needs to be listened to,” Franklyn said, his eyes wandering, as they often did, to Hannibal. “Didn’t … Will, didn’t you say this Sith we’re after is lonely? That’s what got me thinking that maybe I could help in the first place.”

“Lonely to be understood and find someone who does. But this man wasn’t a Sith, his motives were far different than the Sith we’re hunting,” Will explained, giving Franklyn a look over his shoulder.

“Yes, but, but-” Franklyn said, and reached forward to put his hand on Hannibal’s arm as he spoke. “Aren’t some motives universal? Doesn’t everyone, even the Sith, want to be accepted and loved?” Hannibal raised his eyebrows, and looked down at Franklyn’s hand, with an unmistakable expression of cool disdain.

“You tell me, I’ve never met one,” Will quipped back, done with the conversation as far as he was concerned. “I only know about the one I’m trying to track down.”

Hannibal turned a little to adjust a dial, and Franklyn’s hand fell away as he moved. “The Sith we seek is still at large, which is the most pressing concern.” “Hobbs,” Franklyn said, to Hannibal. “The dead man’s name was Hobbs. I thought you’d want to know. Strange name, isn’t it?”

Will’s heart sunk into his chest, he could have gone without knowing who the man was, let alone a name. “Hardly matters now.”

“It only matters in that we know it is not the name of our mysterious Sith Lord,” Hannibal agreed. Franklyn sighed in reluctant agreement and put his hand on the back of Hannibal’s chair. Hannibal’s lips pursed in irritation, and his amber-brown eyes narrowed a little. “How are we going to find this Sith? Can Will … track him? Like he tracked this Hobbs fellow?”

“Hobbs wasn’t Force sensitive. He couldn’t hide himself from me. Easy to track. This Sith knows we’re looking, and has me blocked at every corner.” Will pulled them out of lightspeed and into the planet’s atmosphere once more.

“Force stealth?” Franklyn asked, with astonishment. “That’s very difficult. He must be … very powerful, this Sith Lord. Especially to hide from someone like Hannibal,” Franklyn said, gazing at Hannibal around his chair as Hannibal’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon, firmly.

Another eye roll from Will as they landed safely, stopping by the council first to report in and drop Franklyn off. Will killed the engine and stood. “Sith don't come about if they're weak.”

“But, not all Sith can manage to hide like that. I mean, that’s something, isn’t it? I can barely manage Force concealment, and I’m on the council,” Franklyn said, as Hannibal stood. Franklyn looked Hannibal over and stood near him. “The council is comprised of Jedi of a _wide_ level of expertise,” Hannibal said, diplomatically, and swept past Franklyn to exit the ship. Franklyn cut Will’s path off entirely with his body as he followed as closely behind Hannibal as possible, laughing at the joke Hannibal made, even if he didn’t understand it, entirely.

Will sighed and put his hood up, wanting to hide all together now. He made sure the ramp was up and the ship secure for them before trailing behind the Masters.

Hannibal reached out with his mind to Will, keeping contact with him as they entered the temple, and headed toward the council chambers. Franklyn put his arm on Hannibal’s back, again, and a sharp flicker of annoyance reached Will from Hannibal’s mind at the touch. “Franklyn, please tell the council we’re on our way. Take your seat. We will join you shortly.”

Will nearly flicked Franklyn away, but luckily Hannibal got to him first. The Padawan stayed back until the other master was gone and only then did he approach Hannibal, as dutifully as he should. “Chilton deserves to eat his own tongue for that,” he whispered.

Hannibal did his best to stifle a smile, but his eyes shone with suppressed laughter when he looked at Will. “Franklyn has been fixated on me, for some time,” he confided under his breath, and brushed a little dust from the cabin from the sleeve of his deep green robe. “The feeling is far from mutual.”

“Good,” Will murmured, picking another piece of lint from Hannibal’s robe and then took a step back, nervous now as to what the council was going to say concerning his...kill.

Hannibal smiled to himself when Will picked a little lint off of his sleeve. “Are you feeling territorial, Will?” Hannibal asked, with soft amusement.

Will ducked his head under his robe, scowling at himself. “Sorry.”

“Not at all,” Hannibal said, with a smile. “I find it endearing, and not wholly inappropriate. It’s not at all untrue that Franklyn would love to take your place. However, it’s also true that I would never permit that, for more reasons than I have breath to give voice to.”

Will was afraid of being replaced, he realized, just as he was being abandoned. He trusted Hannibal not to lie to him, or be deceitful about that, and so nodded his head in understanding. “I appreciate being told that, thank you.”

“I should think it is obvious, given why Franklyn was assigned to us,” Hannibal said, quietly.

“Maybe. Didn’t think the council would stoop so low to foster that sort of feeling he has for you though,” Will murmured, just between them.

“Not the council, one particular member of the council, perhaps,” Hannibal said and turned to face the council chamber when the door was opened. “I believe it’s time.”

Bracing himself, Will followed Hannibal in, trailing behind him a few feet to show that they were not as close, perhaps, as the council thought. Will kept his head down and under his hood until the council addressed him.

“Master Lecter, Padawan Graham. We’ve received a report from Master Froideveaux on the events that transpired earlier today,” Master Crawford began. “Padawan Graham, you employed your lightsaber to kill the suspect?”

Will dropped his hood, nodding. “I did, sir. The suspect had killed his wife and child. I tried to be faster but I wasn’t.”

Yoda tilted his head, listening. “Doing what when you entered was the killer?” he asked, thoughtfully.

“He had his daughter at knifepoint, Master Yoda,” Will answered. “He’d already slashed his wife’s throat before that.”

“How many blows did you use to kill him, Will?” Crawford asked, all of the council members intent, listening closely to Will’s replies.

“I knocked the weapon from his grip, and then kicked him down, and used one lightsaber strike to finish him,” Will said, confidently, but not without a bit of remorse in his tone.

The masters of the council looked at one another, only Master Chilton frowned, almost pouting where he sat. “How did you decide now was the time to _finally_ use your weapon, Will?” Chilton asked, sullen.

“I’ve had much better guidance in the last week than I have in years. I was confident in my ability to strike quickly.” Will straightened his shoulders a bit.

“An improvement, this is,” Yoda finally said in the little silence that followed. “Satisfied am I, Will Graham, that you have grown in your judgment under your new master.” Yoda looked at Chilton, and laughed to himself, aloud at Chilton’s face. “More to add, have you, Fredrick? Volumes your expression speaks.” Chilton sighed through his nose and pursed his lips. “No. Nothing.”

“Then agreed, are we. Justly, this Padawan has acted. No punishment shall he have,” Yoda said, looking at Will, and then Hannibal.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Will bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you, Master Yoda.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda,” Hannibal echoed behind Will, with an inclination of his head. “I trust Master Froideveaux is feeling better?” Hannibal asked, and heads turned to look at Franklyn, who smiled widely. “Yes. I am, thanks for asking, Hannibal-” he said, effusively happy. “You were ill?” Crawford asked, with a frown. “I … the blood. I’m not great with blood. I was sick at the scene,” Franklyn admitted. “You … are not good with blood and you’re tagging along at _crime scenes?”_ Crawford asked, pointedly. “Did you contaminate the evidence?” “No, no, I ran outside,” Franklyn said, his palms up. “I just waited for Hannibal and the Padawan.” “Then _why_ are you going at all?” Crawford asked, irritated. Yoda silenced them with a raised hand. “Continue this discussion we will at another time. Dismissed this council is, for the moment. Report to the Healer, Master Franklyn will,” Yoda declared, and everyone dispersed.

On that, Will turned on his heel and walked out of the doors, waiting just in the hall for Hannibal to catch up, in case he had anything he needed to talk to the others about first. Will put his hood up, waiting patiently.

Hannibal joined WIll a moment later with a sly smile hidden under his hood. “Shall we return home?” he asked, lightly. The deep green of his hood made Hannibal’s eyes look like copper in contrast.

“Yes.” Will was starved, even after seeing the woman butchered for meat. He stepped in line with Hannibal as they walked back to the ship. “I don’t think we’ll be bothered again anytime soon by Master Chilton.”

“No, I think we’ll be on our own for a few days, at least,” Hannibal said, smiling at Will as they walked out, together. “I trust you aren’t suffering the same nausea that has plagued Master Froideveaux.”

“No. On the contrary, I’m famished,” Will replied, walking up to their ship, and palmed it open, letting Hannibal go in first.

“I think we have just the thing at home,” Hannibal said, and boarded after Will, taking his place in the passenger seat. The ship was blissfully quiet without Franklyn’s prattling.

The ride home was quiet, even between them, but there was nothing uncomfortable about their shared silence. Once home, Will left his boots at the door and hung his cloak there as well. He checked on his blooming plant, and washed up, ready to help Hannibal with dinner.

The orchid looked slightly wilted from Will’s momentary absence from the planet but perked up quickly once he had returned. Hannibal was already working in the kitchen when Will returned, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up to his elbows as he arranged marinated roast in a pan and garlanded it with whole leaves of herbs. “If you’re hungry now, I can make something to tide us over while dinner cooks.”

“A snack might be in order if these will take some time to cook,” Will agreed, rolling up his own sleeves as he stood next to Hannibal, their domesticity coming easily.

“That’s understandable. Would you mind slicing some bread, in that case?” Hannibal asked, and handed Will a long knife as he took a few more things from his pantry.

Will nodded, taking the knife. He grabbed the loaf of bread they'd baked earlier in the week and began to slice through it, making nice round pieces. He put them on a plate and wrapped the rest of the bread back.

In no time at all, dinner was cooking, and Hannibal shared a plate of cheese, bread, and fruit with his Padawan while the roasting meat filled their house with a savory scent. “Master Yoda was right, Will. You have come a long way, even in a week’s time.”

“I've had an excellent master,” Will insisted, eating his last piece of cheese, and then brushed his hands off. “It helps that you understand me, and don't belittle.”

“Why in the world would I belittle you?” Hannibal asked, and pulled a new bottle of wine down from a tall rack. He stretched his tall body to do so, managing with grace. “Are you tired of this wine, yet, Will?”

“The others have,” Will said, and shook his head “I like it. The wine tastes different every time I drink it. It makes it interesting.” He admired Hannibal's frame as he moved, and then turned away way to get two glasses.

Hannibal opened the wine, and decanted it, to let it breathe. “I think your previous Masters felt the need to belittle you because they likely felt inadequate in the face of your gift. Dismissing your abilities was one very clumsy way to make themselves feel more securely in charge.”

“And you don't feel like that?” Will asked, though he knew the answer all too well, and smiled at Hannibal.

Hannibal looked at Will, across the counter, locking eyes with him. “I am very secure in my position as _Master_ ,” he said, allowing the barest hint of a purr to emerge in his tone on the last word.

“ _My_ Master,” Will added, never letting his eyes flit from Hannibal’s as the dark pupil blew wide when Hannibal looked at him that way and spoke in such a tone.

Hannibal’s hand faltered a little as he poured wine, but he managed not to spill a drop. He handed Will his glass, still staring at his sea-colored eyes. “Yours.”

Will reached for the glass, their fingers brushing enough to send an electric charge through Will’s spine once more. He offered Hannibal a boyish grin, happy to hear his master agreed. He took a sip of the wine and licked his lips.

Hannibal smiled, mostly with his dark eyes, and raised his own glass to Will, in a salute. “To taking action, when the time is right.”

Will raised his glass to the double meaning and then took another long sip, letting the wine drip down his throat slowly. “And to no more Franklyn, hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Hannibal agreed and took a sip, gaze still on Will. “Has the taste of your wine evolved, Will?”

“It’s very rich today,” Will said with another little sip. “Not sweet at all. I almost like it like this best.”

“Your palate is evolving with you,” Hannibal said, as the light shone through his eyes, lighting them with the color of dark honey. “It’s remarkable.”

“You’ve shown me so many new things this week, how could it not?” Will leaned over the counter, his forearms resting there, glass in hand, watching Hannibal with ever intentful sea-blue eyes.

“This is only the first week of our association,” Hannibal said with an admiring quirk to his soft-looking lips. They looked as cared for and velvety of the petals of Will’s black orchid. “Imagine what we will have explored in a year’s time.”

“We’ll be inseparable by then,” Will mused, softly, flops of curls falling around his face the more he leaned into the counter. “One of us will wilt and wither without the other, just like the orchid.”

“We’ll have to be certain to care for one another, in that case. Symbiosis is a delicate balance, a vulnerable state,” Hannibal noted.

“I will gladly care for you,” Will chuckled, lifting the glass for a small sip. “I don’t see us parting ways.”

“I have already begun to relish in taking care of you, Will,” Hannibal confessed. “Far more than I had ever expected. I take pride in my ability as a host, but I no longer feel I am your host, I feel that we have moved beyond being a host and guest to the point where I dread the day you are no longer under my tutelage.”

Will had admittedly not thought about that. The day he made Knight was the day he’d no longer be here, and Hannibal would likely take on another Padawan. The boy’s face fell, brows furrowing in. “That’s…unfortunate and inevitable.”

“You had not considered it?” Hannibal observed, quietly.

“I just got here, the thought had not yet crossed my mind,” Will said, taking a deep breath to center himself, to grasp ahold of his feelings, reign them in.

“It is likely you will be encouraged to take a Padawan of your own,” Hannibal said, obviously having considered the idea in some detail. “Such is the path of the Jedi.”

“That’s true,” Will whispered, sinking in on himself, tossing up those forts and walls, wondering if it was too late to not become so attached that he couldn’t bear the separation.

“However, that may not be for years,” Hannibal reminded Will, as he stepped closer and topped up his wine. Seeing Will fold in on himself produced a curious ache in Hannibal’s chest. It was possible that Will’s empathic nature was slightly contagious.

“Years, maybe. But when it’s over, it’s over. Hard to hide.” Will gazed down into his wine, swirling it, watching the red of it.

“We will still be friends, Will,” Hannibal said, as he watched Will avoid his gaze. “Without the restrictions placed upon Master and Padawan.”

“Just the restrictions of the council and the code,” Will retorted, aware that everything he had started to feel for his Master was not aligned with their ways, and would only end in heartache, one way or another.

“Those will always exist,” Hannibal sighed, and took a swallow of his wine. “In that case, you’ll have to be particularly thick-headed, and remain a Padawan the rest of your life.”

“I think there’s an age limit.” Will rolled his eyes, aware that this was his last shot anyway if he failed now they shipped him off elsewhere, to be a nothing, a nobody. Just another failed attempt.

“I did not mean to put you in a melancholy mood, Will. I’m sorry,” Hannibal said, and brushed a curl behind Will’s delicate ear.

“It was silly to think we’d never be parted. It’s not like it is on that planet today,” Will sighed, resisting the urge to turn his face into Hannibal’s palm as he might have before, but now he was all too aware of their situation. Boundaries.

Hannibal’s throat shifted as he swallowed hard, and stroked Will’s cheekbone for a moment with his thumb, affectionately. “No, it’s not.”

The thought of giving up all of it to not be anything at all that had to do with the council crossed Will’s mind, but unfortunately, he hadn’t much else to offer the world. He swirled the wine in his glass with a frown. “I can see why attachment is frowned upon now.”

“Because we have signed our lives over to a system in which nothing must come before the order,” Hannibal said, sadly. “We did so, as children.”

“It’s imprisonment,” Will whispered and downed the wine in a few gulps, and licked his lips.

“Prisoners are permitted attachment,” Hannibal sighed and refilled Will’s glass for him.

“Even they have it better then, don’t they.” Will huffed, taking the glass and going to sit in the living room instead, bare feet padding across the floor.

“Ironically enough, Sith are permitted attachment. The killer we hunt has more freedom than we do,” Hannibal noted, and watched Will, soberly.

“Give up all morals for the Dark Side?” Will asked, glass on the side table, he hitched his feet up and under him on the sofa.

“It’s not an option, of course, simply what I think is a jarring philosophical inconsistency,” Hannibal said, as he moved closer to Will, gracefully, and sat on the couch with him, facing Will as he crossed his long legs. “Sith are permitted to love, but we assume them unable.”

“Love can lead to very dark places,” Will commented, wondering if their killer was seeking out love, or mourning, now that he had another perspective on it.

“As can a lack of love,” Hannibal said, and let their knees touch.

“Where’s the balance?” Will murmured, not looking for an answer, he wasn’t sure if there was one. He looked at their knees, eyes trailing back to Hannibal’s this time, holding his gaze.

“That’s something only we can determine,” Hannibal answered. “There is a reason why dancers and acrobats are so universally admired: balance is difficult.”

“Is there any chance here for balance?” Will was hopeful, but he was also starting to drop the veil of naivety.

Hannibal could not stop himself from smiling and nearly had to put a hand on his chest to stop the ridiculous fluttering feeling as he stared at Will, momentarily speechless. “We are, both of us, fairly accomplished acrobats already. You have defied the order without expulsion, I have worked around their rules to the same effect.”

“Then… maybe we see how it goes, for now.” All Will knew was he was happy for once, and understood, and he’d have a hard time giving that up, but the future was some ways off yet.

“Maybe we do,” Hannibal agreed. “Being mindful of the moment, and our surroundings, of course.”

“We can do that. _I_ can do that,” Will insisted, leaning on elbow on the back of the couch, facing Hannibal, a wisp of a smile graced his features once more.

“Then, we shall move as acrobats on a high wire: carefully, and together,” Hannibal whispered, his own throat flushed with color as they considered each other, and their evolving relationship.

Will liked to see Hannibal relax like that and reached out his other hand to touch the skin of his neck once, and then pulled away. “A skill we’ll hone together.”

Hannibal closed his eyes at the touch to his neck, and arched a little, into the touch with a hot shiver spreading up the length of his spine. “Have you ever attempted to balance your duty as a Jedi and attachment to anyone, before?” Hannibal asked, elegantly.

Will gave Hannibal a coy look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been listening.” Will had never gotten close to another soul, aside from random wolf-like animals, but even those were fleeting. “Have you?”

Hannibal smiled, looking off to the side as he sipped his wine. “Never with the understanding that it was a permanent arrangement, or even for more than an evening.”

“No attachment.” Will leaned over for his wine, grabbing it from the table.

“No attachment,” Hannibal confirmed and watched Will’s body stretch as he reached. Will was, even fully clothed, achingly beautiful.

Taking a sip of the wine, Will’s cheeks flushed. He hoped they could come to some agreement, and even long after he was not longer Hannibal’s Padawan, they’d find a way to make things work. Separation would be hell otherwise. “Good.”

“May I sketch you, Will? Here, in the physical world?” Hannibal asked. He knew Will had seen the portrait that he was constructing in their own world, but his physical hands ached to do the same.

The crimson in his cheeks spread to his ears, half hidden under his floppy curls. Will shrugged and nodded. “Yes?”

“After dinner, perhaps, or I’ll become absorbed in the task and forget that we are due to eat,” Hannibal smiled, his eyes still moving over Will’s delicate features, obsessively and adoringly.

“Deal.” Will smiled and took another sip, his sour mood lifting by the second, still happy that Hannibal wanted him, and was willing to make it work even long after his training.

“Fortunately,” Hannibal said and looked over his shoulder at the kitchen. “I think dinner is ready to be served.”

Will stood, and stretched, taking his wine with him, he set it on the table and gathered the dishes. “I’m starved. You run me ragged.”

Hannibal just sighed at Will’s turn of phrase and followed him into the kitchen. “I’ve only just begun,” he teased and began to set the table: white dishes on a crisp black cloth with silver utensils.

“There’s more?” Will grinned, helping to make sure everything was set out right and then brought the done sides dishes to the table.

Hannibal caught Will’s eye as he passed him, on his way back to the kitchen. “One day, you’ll look back on this evening and marvel at how little you knew,” he promised, with a twinkle in his dark eyes, then removed the main course from the oven, and arranged the perfectly finished rib roast on a platter before garnishing it, artistically.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Will tilted his nose up at Hannibal, playfully, and took a seat in his spot at the table.

Hannibal turned, distracted, and watched Will take his seat before he carried the roast to the table, and carved the best piece off for his Padawan, then set it on his plate. “You’re quite saucy after a successful mission,” Hannibal remarked.

“I’m pleased I didn’t get kicked out, and we stopped a killer,” Will answered, though having killed the man himself, he was still uneasy about that. He wasn’t letting that bring him down right now.

“You stopped a killer,” Hannibal corrected, proudly. “I could not have been more pleased, Will.” He dished Will’s plate, artistically, and then his own, and sat down after refilling their wine glasses.

Will licked his bottom lip and cut into the meat, taking a bite. He hummed, the flavors exploding on his tongue. Hannibal never ceased to amaze him with his meals. He seemed to preen at Hannibal’s words. “Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have done that.”

“You needed to be encouraged to follow your instincts, Will. They will never betray you,” Hannibal said, seriously, and took a bite of the roast, savoring it.

“And you’ve done that. You’re an excellent Master.” Will took a sip of wine and then dug into the side dish, slathering it over his meat and ate it.

Hannibal’s eyes shone brightly when Will ate with gusto, and he ate at a more leisurely pace, content to let his Padawan have as many servings as he desired. “We should have had a larger breakfast.”

“Breakfast was fine,” Will said with a shake of his head. “I worked up an appetite with the meditation trick, today.”

“Perhaps that’s how I’ll sketch you, while you are in meditation,” Hannibal mused. “Your face becomes sublimely serene when you are deep in a trance, Will. You are the very picture of peace itself.”

Rolling his eyes, Will took another bite. “I’ll take your word for it, _Master._ ”

“In some societies, such as the planet we were fortunate enough to visit today, the relationship between students who are young men, and their Masters have a very different dynamic than what the Jedi expect of Master and Padawan,” Hannibal said, savouring the words, as though he’d been thinking of it all day, and waiting to talk about it.

That got Will’s attention, his eyes snapping to Hannibal’s just as he put another bite in his mouth. “Oh?”

If Will could tease, Hannibal was happy to show him that he was more experienced in the matter. “The principle cultural model for relationships is based on the model of young men of consensual age and an older teacher pairing together in a socially acknowledged and celebrated erotic relationship that can last from months to a lifetime, depending on the wishes of both parties. Such a relationship is considered a rite of passage, even an initiation into military or political life.”

Will swallowed, thickly, and took a sip of wine, the flush to his skin was darker than ever, and his blue eyes were dark with spreading pupil. “What a shame we were born Force-sensitive.”

Hannibal stared at Will for a long moment, over his glass of wine. “I would not have chosen differently, no matter where we had met, Will, no matter what the circumstances.”

“You wouldn’t be curious about that sort of relationship with… me?” Will asked, cautiously now as he set his wine back down, nearly spilling it over, but caught it with the Force and righted it.

“I fear you may have misunderstood my meaning,” Hannibal said, gently. “Had we met as teacher and student on Chandrila, where teacher and student are also called the lover and the beloved, I cannot imagine anyone who could have pleased me more.”

Nodding his head once, Will hummed. He understood, and he also understood it was unfortunate that they had not met there. He took another bite, not wanting to be forced into another conversation that would leave him with regret of what their relationship could or could not be.

“The matching ritual is unique on Chandrila,” Hannibal continued after a moment. “The teacher, upon choosing a student he wishes to take as his beloved, presents the young man with a drinking cup as a gift, and a set of clothes. If the student decides that the teacher is suitable, the student would deliver to his chosen teacher-lover a book of blank pages, to be filled with a record of their relationship. The nature of the custom is ideal, no shame is ever heaped upon a student who refuses or a teacher who is rejected. It is all very graceful.”

“It sounds poetic,” Will sighed finishing off his meal with a few more bites.

“I’ve heard it is,” Hannibal said, able to see plainly that Will did not wish to continue the conversation.

“How often do they stay together? I mean, all that trouble, does it work out?” Will was curious if nothing else. They’d never have that, and it felt like Hannibal was teasing him with talk of the sort of life that Jedi like themselves would never obtain.

“As with any relationship, even a relationship between chemical elements, the end product is a result of the strength and number of bonds created. Some last only a month, some barely that. Some, however, last a lifetime, and no doubt result in marriages.” Hannibal looked down, into his wine as shadows pooled beneath his aristocratic cheekbones. “In those cases, the student lover is buried with his drinking vessel, the teacher with his completed book.”

“It almost sounds like a fairytale,” Will commented, finishing off his wine.

“There are some who say the same about the Jedi,” Hannibal replied, sardonically.

“That’s true.” Will pushed his empty plate to the side and rested his arms on the table, watching Hannibal keenly.

Hannibal looked up from his dark wine to discover himself watched by Will and smiled a little. “I’ve always found the function of fairy tales a fascinating subject,” he mused. “In some cultures, they serve as cautionary tales, in others, ideals to which the listeners are to aspire.”

“Stories to live by. Some aren’t real though,” Will commented and stood, wanting to be closer to Hannibal. He stopped by Hannibal’s side and then knelt on the ground, looking up at him, resting his arms on his thighs.

Hannibal’s breath hitched, and his hand drifted to Will’s hair as he gazed down at him. “Do you have a favorite fairy tale, Will?” Hannibal murmured, and allowed his thumb to trace over Will’s rosy cheek, again, heart in his throat.

“I don’t. But I don’t know many either.” He rested his head on his arms, eyes on Hannibal, all his attention solely on him.

At moments like this, Will’s beauty was like a physical force that brought tears to Hannibal’s dark eyes. He caressed Will’s cheek again, his fingers and thumb trailing down to Will’s sharp jaw, over the very beginning of stubble beneath Will’s ivory skin. “Perhaps you’re living in one,” Hannibal murmured, whimsically. “The tale of the dashing knight who chased down a lonely, dark beast… what happens next, Will?”

Smirking, Will gazed up at Hannibal with bigger, brighter looking eyes. “That depends. Who is this dark and lonely beast? Our Sith? I don’t see that fairytale ending well.”

“And for the brave knight? Will he have to kill the beast?” Hannibal asked, softly, after a moment’s silence.

“Isn’t that what Knights do?” Will cast a softer glance up at Hannibal, knowing full well at some point, when they found this Sith, he’d have a much harder time defeating him than if he had been a normal man.

“So it is,” Hannibal agreed, as he stroked his hand through Will’s hair, slowly, then pulled Will up, with both arms, into his lap, and held him tightly as he swallowed hard, feeling an uncharacteristic sense of doom.

They’d been close, but not like this. Will draped himself over Hannibal’s lap and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, nosing against his neck, Hannibal’s sense of dread escaping into his own heart. “I have you to help me, though.”

Distracted by the feeling of Will’s nose against his throat, Hannibal closed his eyes as he felt Will’s heart beating against his own through their robes. “More than you know,” Hannibal whispered and took a deep breath of Will’s soft hair.

Will squeezed both arms around Hannibal, holding them together until he was sure that the heavy feeling he got from his Master was gone. The beat of their hearts was all that mattered in the moment. “You’re the best there is, in my opinion.”

“I’m beginning to believe you may be biased, Will,” Hannibal hummed as they sat together, arms wrapped tightly around one another, as though they feared being torn apart at any moment.

“Maybe.” Will wouldn’t deny that he was falling for his Master and that maybe it impeded his judgment just a little. Will rested his forehead against Hannibal’s neck, breathing in deep, and letting it out slowly.

“I admit, I may also carry a bias of my own,” Hannibal whispered, with a hard swallow, and stretched his neck when Will rested his forehead there, his head over Will’s as they curled together in one dining chair. “A bias that grows daily in magnitude.”

Their eventual separation would be the roughest thing Will had ever done, he could feel that just in the way they melded together. Breaking apart would be hell. “As long as we’re on the same page.”

They were on the same page, the same paragraph, the same line. “Very much so,” Hannibal replied. “If only we could freeze the story here, Will.”

“And pretend the rest of the universe didn’t matter?” Will pulled back to smile at Hannibal, and then rested their heads together, gazing at him.

“I am beginning to believe the relative importance of the rest of the universe is, perhaps, grossly exaggerated,” Hannibal whispered as their noses brushed together.

Will chuckled lightly at that, content to be like this; quiet and just them for the rest of the evening. “For right now, it’s unimportant.”

“For the moment,” Hannibal agreed, with a soft smile, and closed his eyes, letting them flash black behind the lids as he and Will nuzzled each other, carefully.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note* ysalamiri are known in the Legends portions of the Star Wars Universe as lizards that can deflect the Force and cause users near them to be rendered unable to tap into it.

The message came from Crawford, early the next morning. Hannibal answered, but Crawford’s voice could be heard clearly from Will’s room. “We have another one. Where’s Will?”

“Asleep. If you’ll send the coordinates, we’ll be there, shortly,” Hannibal promised with a frown. “On Coruscant?” “Yes. Not far from the temple,” Jack grumbled. “Multiple victims, this time.”

Will shuffled out, blinking, rubbing his eyes. “Multiple?”

“You’ll understand when you get here, which I’m hoping is going to be _sooner_ rather than later,” Jack said and disconnected. Hannibal sighed and turned back to face Will. “We’ll have to have an expedient breakfast, unfortunately. I had something special planned.”

“We can do it when we get home.” Will smiled sleepily at Hannibal, took a deep breath, and shuffled back to his room to change into different clothing. Once finished, Will pulled his messy curls back with a band to keep them out of his eyes, and slipped on his boots by the door.

Hannibal, likewise, dressed and was already in the kitchen plating a quick breakfast for them both with tea when Will emerged from his room. “Multiple victims … I don’t believe he’s done that before.”

Will picked up his plate to eat quickly, listening to Hannibal with a nod. “Desperate for attention? Doesn’t like to be upstaged by someone else.”

“Our sith may have the markings of an artistic temperament,” Hannibal said with a smile and sat with his padawan at the table.

“What better way to bring back everyone’s full attention?” Will smiled wearily and sipped his tea. He took a few more bites, humming.

“Are you looking forward to the challenge, Will?” Hannibal asked, with light sparkling in his eyes.

Will blinked over at Hannibal, licking a stray drop of tea from his lips. “I like challenges. Do you think that’s what he’s doing? That he knows we’re investigating him?”

“He creates a deadly form of art and leaves them to be found. I am certain he watches our reactions, closely.”

“You believe he’ll be there watching? Killers are known to go back to the scene to see how it pans out,” Will commented, and finished his breakfast and his tea.

“Our work and his have their respective audiences,” Hannibal said, as he watched Will inhale his food and drink with the appetite of the young.

“Well, let’s not disappoint him by being late.” Will set his plate and cup into the sink and washed his hands, then grabbed his cloak.

Hannibal smiled to himself at how eager Will was to discover the Sith’s newest work and followed after donning his own robe, a deep amber robe, today.

Will was out the door once Hannibal was ready, a few paces ahead. He admittedly enjoyed the sort of work he got to do now under his Master’s ministrations. The council was taking him seriously now. Finally, he waited up for Hannibal, slowing his pace.

Hannibal boarded the ship and sat in the passenger’s seat. “You are positively cheerful, Will.”

Will sat in the pilot’s seat and smiled over at Hannibal as they took off. “I had a good sleep. You seem tired though.”

“My mind was occupied with everything we’ve discussed,” Hannibal admitted as Will piloted them, skillfully, to the temple.

“In a good or bad way?” Will asked his eyes on the controls, for now, to pay attention, rather than be distracted.

“Both,” Hannibal said, honestly. “However, I have no regrets,” he confided in Will and reached over to touch Will’s shoulder for a moment, reassuring him. He had held Will last night, close, until Will had fallen asleep while they shared the same air, face to face.

After Hannibal had helped Will to bed, he’d been inspired, and left late at night to prepare a gift for Will. A gift that they were on their way to find, together.

“I’m glad.” Will would hate to be a burden on anyone else, but his felt Hannibal’s sincerity through the Force, which was as much of a relief as the hand on his shoulder.

Will piloted them to the temple, landing.

Thankfully, Franklyn was not waiting for them. Hannibal smiled with satisfaction and stepped off of the ship with Will, both of them headed to the coordinates nearby that Jack had provided them.

Once again, the crime scene had attracted a crowd that the Jedi had to walk through, to a line of Coruscant police that tried to keep the crowds at bay around the small, but upscale flower shop that had been blocked off from the reach of the curious public.

Will and Hannibal walked through the line and were allowed into the shop. Will's stomach sank in anticipation of what was to come, a feeling of dread growing in him.

Inside the flower shop were two male bodies that had been positioned facing each other. One man’s body was dressed in dark robes, the other in sandy robes. Their faces, the front of their throats, and both men’s chests had been sliced away, completely. While the victims’ feet were positioned about a foot apart where the bodies stood, the front halves of the mens’ bodies had been fused together from the chest, up.

Greenery and flowers from the shop had been arranged around the conjoined men, and even woven into the joining of their flesh, between stitches. The impression that the tableau gave was of two men blurring into each other to create one oddly beautiful beast, the grotesque union embraced by nature.

The artistry of it would have been lost on Master Crawford, Will knew, but he saw into it as he knew Hannibal must have as well. Will circled the bodies, taking in every inch and angle of them, like a piece of art found in one of the vast rooms of Hannibal’s mind palace.

The Sith had indeed been watching them, maybe too close.

“Who are they?” Will asked as Crawford approached them.

“The owners of the flower shop,” Crawford said, grimly. “Twins.”

“Were they… awful people?” Will frowned, if they were just bystanders in this, the Sith they were after was upping his game.

“They did have a history of refusing service for what some would consider frivolous reasons,” Crawford said. “There was a long list of complaints against them and this business.”

“Were same-sex couples one of the groups refused service to?” Will asked, staring at the two men, conjoined.

“Yes,” Jack said, surprised that Will guessed as much. “Many of the complaints centered around their refusal to serve anyone whose lifestyle they found … deviant.”

“Unfortunately, they aren’t the only people who do, but the only ones who were vocal enough to get the attention of our Sith,” Will explained, taking in more of the scene with the information he was given. “I imagine our Sith lives close and was deterred from the shop because of their refusal. There is a personal nature to everything he does.”

“So, the sith is …” Jack gestured with his hand for the word.

Hannibal just raised a single eyebrow, as though daring Jack to say what he meant.

“I’m saying it’s not impossible, maybe he doesn’t discriminate and thought these two shouldn’t either,” Will added in, just to put it out there. “Nothing wrong with that, but it’s hardly the issue here.”

 “He found the florists offensive, just like the other victims,” Crawford said, walking around them. “How are they ... fused?”

Hannibal took a closer look, careful not to touch the corpses. “Stitching, it seems. They’ve been sutured together with what looks like gold thread. Their feet aren’t anchored to the ground, surprisingly, the bodies hold one another up with nothing but rigor mortis and expert balance. They exert an equal, yet opposite force upon one another.”

Will stood close to Hannibal to take a better look himself, and then looked at Jack. “Yeah. We have a fancy Sith.”

Hannibal laughed at Will’s choice of words, affectionately. “He’s concerned with impressing us. Are the victims missing internal organs, again?”

Crawford looked closely at the corpses, then shook his head. “Impossible to tell until they’re taken apart.”

“Likely their hearts, because they didn’t have any to begin with,” Will suggested, looking at the bodies, but without getting a good look, it was hard to say.

“Quite possibly no brains, for the same reason,” Hannibal added and admired some of the stitching under a ray of sunlight that climbed up the macabre sculpture.

“Any hope of tracking him from here?” Crawford asked Will, with a frown.

“I guess he’ll be eating hearty brains tonight,” Will quipped, mostly to Hannibal, and then touched the foot of the one body carefully. “I can try, but he’s hidden from me, usually…”

“Try,” Crawford muttered, arms folded over his broad chest. The killer wasn’t stopping and people were starting to panic. “This is ridiculous, we have to do _something.”_

“Okay okay,” Will sighed, rolling his shoulders. He stepped back into the shoes of the killer, back further, sewing them together, taking our their organs, walking into the shop, lightsaber in hand. Back even further, until he reached a docking platform, and then… “It… it just stops.”

“Stops?” Jack repeated, testily. “What do you mean, stops?”

“I can’t go any further back than the docking platform. He’s blocking me.” Will rubbed his head, a headache splintering through his skull.

Hannibal noted Will’s apparent ache. “Perhaps after meditation, something will present itself. For the time being, Jack, I am afraid this is all we can do.”

Jack gave Hannibal a frustrated look but said nothing.

“I’ll attempt again after meditation,” Will agreed, rubbing his eyes once with his palms, and then stood straight again. “And report it back to you right away if I do find something.”

Jack sighed, pacing as he looked at the bodies. “He’s making a fool of us,” Jack grumbled. “Running circles around us.”

“I’m doing what I can.” Will sighed, grasping Hannibal’s shoulder as he felt dizzy suddenly. “What have _you_ done?”

Hannibal turned at the touch, concerned. “You look unwell,” Hannibal said, his brow furrowed.

“Just…” Will swallowed and stood straighter. “I’m okay. I’ll try again later.”

“It’s best that we return home, Jack. I think Will has done all he can with what is here.” Hannibal said, apologetically, and guided Will back to the ship.

Will staggered a little, drained. “Do you think he’s mad,” he asked once they were far enough away from Jack, weaving through the crowd.

“I think anger may be part of Jack’s permanent disposition,” Hannibal assured Will as they moved through the crowd again, his arm around his ailing padawan to support him. “Try not to take it personally, Will. It’s part of his nature, as enhanced perception is a part of yours. As a consequence, his anger reverberates upon your senses twice as loudly as it seems to anyone else.”

“Hard not to.” Will followed, to the ship, this time he took the passenger seat, holding his head in his hands, hunched.

Hannibal crouched and waved his hand to close the ship’s doors when he heard Franklyn approaching. “Stay there,” he murmured. Hannibal sat in the pilot’s seat, and fired the engines to life, then lifted off, leaving Franklyn in the doorway of the temple.

Hannibal flew home, smoothly and quickly, and landed the ship without a bump. “When did the ache begin?”

“When I tried to go further back into the Sith, to find him,” Will said, getting up from his seat, holding on to Hannibal’s shoulder. It was subsiding now.

Hannibal helped Will off of the ship, and into the house, then closed the door behind them. “He must have set up a very strong barrier, attempting to cross it was too strenuous, much like fighting the strong current of a river.”

“He really doesn’t want to be found out.” Will took his cloak off and left his boots by the door. “I don’t know how we’re going to find him otherwise, though.”

Hannibal helped Will to the couch, sat next to him, then put his fingers on Will’s temples, to soothe his headache. “I’m certain you’ll think of something else,” Hannibal murmured. “You are determined and innovative, Will. Water finds a way around a boulder, makes its own paths, so will you.”

“Another way that is not my best ability?” Will smiled a little, closing his eyes as Hannibal soothed the ache, leaning into his touch.

“Breathe, slowly,” Hannibal instructed Will, and focused on easing Will’s headache. He removed the tension and ache quickly, clearing it like a strong wind pushed aside clouds. “Do your best to relax, Will.”

It was easier said than done, but Will relaxed slowly against Hannibal, the ache easing away with Hannibal’s help. It was as though Hannibal had the key to the very issue at hand. “I am…”

“I can see that,” Hannibal murmured, with a smile in his accented voice. He used one hand to pull the band out of Will’s hair, releasing his curls, and touched his cheek. “Is that better?”

“Much.” Will turned his face into Hannibal’s hand, opening his eyes to look at him, bright under dark lashes. “Thank you.”

Hannibal stared for a moment, entranced and soft-eyed. “Meditate on the scene, and I’ll prepare the breakfast we should have eaten this morning,” Hannibal said, after a moment. “A decent meal may go a long way in resolving the ache.”

The longer Will stared at Hannibal, the more he knew that nothing would resolve the real ache he had. “Okay.” Food did sound good.

Hannibal brushed his palm against Will’s cheek, with a sigh, and then excused himself to the kitchen after removing his cloak, leaving Will to meditate on all he’d seen and felt this morning.

Will dropped to the floor and pushed the table there out of the way. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes, pushing himself back into the crime scene once more, hoping to find something else, anything else that might help. Jumping into the Sith’s mind was the last place he wanted to be, but they had to catch him.

Hannibal worked in the kitchen, but remained aware of his padawan, able to feel the machinations of Will’s extraordinary mind, intimately. As Hannibal prepared the freshly hunted meat from last night, he could feel Will searching the universe for his presence, and not for the first time, wished that he could reveal himself. Not yet. But, _soon_. He’d left something behind, this time. A gift for Will.

Quiet throughout the duration of his meditation, Will finally gave up looking-- not a trace to be found of their Sith. He sighed and opened his eyes, standing, then walked into the kitchen to find Hannibal. “Smells good.”

“Thank you, it’s nearly finished. How are you feeling now?” Hannibal asked as he dried his hands on a towel. Hannibal had removed his outer robe and had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his forearms.

“Little better. Nothing new though.” Will stood close to Hannibal and then reached over to wash his hands. “Anything I can do?”

“Have a seat at the table. Do you have an appetite, or should I stop asking and assume your appetite is endless, at this point?” Hannibal asked, smiling as he removed an intricate and fragrant dish from the oven.

“I’m usually always hungry, especially when you cook.” Will smirked cheekily and took a seat at the table. “What are we having?”

“It’s a surprise,” Hannibal said with a smile, and arranged the small, perfect roasts on plates, then dressed them carefully with leaves and small flowers. They were a strange array of curved cuts of meat that looked like cups with smaller, concentric curves inside. All of the curves and tiny pockets were filled with a savory stuffing. “I will only answer your questions about the dish with a yes or a no”

“Mystery meat?” Will teased, leaning over to look at the dish, but he couldn’t tell what it was, or what cut of meat.

“Yes,” Hannibal answered, coyly, and brought the dishes to the table, serving Will first, then himself. He had been careful to disguise the nature of the muscle with artistry, and marinated it overnight to ensure they were tender and _especially_ delicious.

Giving Hannibal a look, Will cut into the meat and put the bite in his mouth. It was unlike anything he’d had before, but it wasn’t bad. Different, but delicious. “It’s really good. Local or off planet? Wait that’s not yes or no. Local?”

“Yes,” Hannibal answered with a smile and watched Will eat the first bite before taking one of his own. He felt a particular sort of exhilaration knowing Will had just come from seeing the source of the dish and was eating it now, enjoying it.

There wasn’t much that lived on Coruscant, but there were farmed animals. “Is it organ meat?” Sure didn’t taste like a loin.

“Yes,” Hannibal said, impressed with Will’s evolving palate.

Will didn’t mind, Hannibal had a way with food and making almost anything palatable. He took a few more bites, trying to study the structure of the dish, but he couldn’t place it. “Whatever it is, it’s very good.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” Hannibal said, honestly. “Did your meditation shed any light on the crime scene?”

“Not really. I think I’m missing something. Something that was there, that I should have seen, but didn't.” Will put another bite into his mouth with a soft hum.

Hannibal considered his brilliant padawan across the table as he ate, then swallowed. “We can return and have another look if that would ease your mind, Will.”

“I’m sure the clean up has already started.” Will shrugged, he would get to the bottom of it one way or another.

Hannibal sensed someone approaching the house before the knock sounded at the door. “Someone from the police,” Hannibal said, as he placed his napkin on the table, and stood. “They’d like to speak to you.”

“I’ll get it then.” Will pushed away from the table and stood. Opening the door he looked at the officer expectantly.

A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway, and she smiled at Will the moment he opened the door. “You’re the Jedi from the crime scene! I’ve seen you around. I’m Bev. I was sent with something Crawford wants you to see. We got it out of the bodies at the lab.” Bev let herself in, stepping past Will and looked around the house with a nod. “Nice place, for a Jedi. I thought you guys all lived in huts. Anyhow, here. It’s a hair. It’s not a normal hair, though, nothing I’ve ever seen before. Crawford hoped you’d be able to … do your thing. What do you think it is?” Bev nodded at Hannibal with a smile and handed Will an envelope that contained a single black hair in a sealed, clear bag, which he took. The hair was thicker, more coarse than a human hair, much more like fur. Its black color was absolute, even a single hair of it seemed to suck the light out of the area around it, into a void.

Will held the hair, honed in on it with his senses, not just sight, but through the Force. Having the mysterious hair to focus on took him further into the Sith’s mind like he was standing right beside Will. “It’s… Wendigo.”

Bev and Hannibal’s faces went blank with surprise at the same time. “Wendigo are mythical creatures, Will,” Hannibal said, slowly. “You’re … certain?” “I mean, it is _completely_ different than anything I’ve ever seen,” Bev said, excited and shocked at the same time.

“You said yourself anything is possible,” Will said to Hannibal and held up the hair for them both to see. “It’s what I _feel_ when I touch it. It’s dense, much different from human hair.” Hannibal looked at the hair, up close, and took a deep breath. “It does radiate darkness in a way unlike anything else I’ve encountered. Where was this found?” he asked Bev. “Where their hearts should have been,” Bev said and looked at Will. “You were right. He took them out.”

“It was only fitting.” Will took a deep breath, but held on to the hair, like it was the only thing that would get him close to the killer. “I’m sure Master Crawford won’t believe me, though.”

“Jack is going to be skeptical,” Bev said and shrugged, “but we’re at a dead end. We can’t explain what this is. You’re all we have to go on. How are we going to find a _wendigo_?”

“It’d be hard to miss right?” Will chuckled, mostly to himself. “I’m not sure. Can I hold on to the hair for a bit? I’ll try to see if it helps me feel him out.”

Bev hesitated but opened the bag. “We’ve already run everything we can on it. I don’t see why not.” She held the bag out to Will, watching him with intense curiosity.

Will took the bag and put the hair back in it, for now, not to lose it. “You can just tell Crawford what I think, and I’ll try to get more answer for him.”

“Sure thing,” Bev nodded and turned back to the door. “A wendigo on Coruscant sounds like a kid’s story.”

“Maybe it is,” Will said, showing her out. The door shut and he palmed the pad to lock it. He turned to Hannibal “I’m not crazy am I?”

“Crazy? No. You are perfectly lucid, Will,” Hannibal assured Will, and locked his gaze on the single black hair in the bag. “A radical explanation is necessary for radical developments in a case.”

“The question is: do wendigo exist? Or was this planted to make me believe it is, purposely to throw me off?” Will mused aloud, mostly to himself.

“To make you chase a beast that may not be real?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head. “It would be a clever ploy, but the question remains, what is the nature of the hair itself?”

“That’s true, and they couldn’t match a person or creature to it, either,” Will said, mimicking Hannibal’s stance and head tilt thoughtfully. “Maybe Wendigo can be Sith, or maybe they are the embodiment of Sith?” Will shrugged.

“One would think a Wendigo among the ranks of the Sith would be difficult to hide,” Hannibal said, with an elegant shrug. “The Sith, despite their fearsome reputation, are a large community of individuals, and as such, are prone to spreading rumor.”

“Maybe… we should ask some.” Will gave his Master a knowing look. “What would it hurt?”

“I’m certain Jack has some influence in the Detention Center,” Hannibal reasoned. “If it might help our progress in the case, he’ll grant nearly any liberty.”

“I think it might. The more we know, the easier it becomes to track him down.” Will went to the comm on the wall and brought up Master Crawford.

Crawford answered his comm, his face grim. “Have you had a look at the hair?”

“Yes. We sent your… Bev back to tell you that I was going to hold on to it for a bit to get more out of it. Uhm, we--” Will looked at Hannibal and then back to Jack, “we were wondering if we could somehow get access to the Detention Center. I’d like to talk to some of the Sith being kept down there.”

“About what, the hair?” Crawford asked, interested.

“Yes. I don’t believe the hair to be human at all, or of any creature, we know about. I want to ask what they know. Any other information will be helpful to me--to _us_.”

“I’ll get back to you, we could have someone,” Jack said with a grunt. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” Will said and turned the comm off. “I’m surprised he didn’t argue first.”

“A measure of Jack’s desperation to accomplish progress in these cases,” Hannibal observed. “I doubt there is anything he would deny you at this point if it helped identify our killer.”

“I hope we learn something new.” Will walked back to the table to finish their meal, an unusual breakfast, but he actually enjoyed it.

“When you touched the newest clue, did you see an image of the Wendigo? A sound?” Hannibal asked, curiously.

“Saw, like that picture,” Will answered, finishing his meal before Crawford called back. “It was a feeling, too. Surrounding me. Like a heavy blanket.”

“A pleasant blanket, or did it suffocate you as would the black void of space?” Hannibal mused.

Will paused, looking down at his plate. “Pleasant. Comforting, even.”

Hannibal smiled, silent for a long moment as he sipped his tea and thought over Will’s words. “You find comfort in the sensation of a monster beside you.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a monster beside than behind you?” Will asked, looking up at Hannibal once more.

“There is no safer place in the universe than at the side of a monster,” Hannibal agreed, as he gazed at Will with soft, dark eyes.

Will wondered if he could use that feeling to reach out to the Sith--the Wendigo. “It’s a little frightening, too.”

“More than a little so most would agree. You are unique, in many ways, Will. Your ability to endow the inhuman with humanity is humbling.” Hannibal smiled.

Finished, Will took their plates to the kitchen to wash and clean up as much as they could, “is it?”

Hannibal stood, gracefully, and met Will at the sink, then wrapped one arm around his waist from behind, and opened his lips, about to say something, when the comm system alerted them.

Hannibal stepped back with a sigh, “Jack has an answer.”

Will’s shoulders sank with that, almost able to feel something from Hannibal, something very different, but only nodded with the comment, “I’ll get it.” He turned and touched Hannibal’s chest once, then went to answer the comm.

Hannibal’s chest rose and then fell when Will walked away. He breathed for a moment, his own hand on the spot Will had touched, and then followed. “We have a Sith in the Detention Center who’s willing to be interviewed,” Crawford told Will. “Master Chilton will have to accompany you. He has influence there and access to the prisoner. Hopefully, he knows something, and he’s willing to talk.”

“That’s fine. Anything we can get will prove to be more than we have now,” Will nodded, hands clasped behind his back. “Thank you.”

Crawford signed off, abruptly, as always. “Have you ever spoken with a Sith before, Will?” Hannibal asked, thoughtfully.

Will shook his head, grabbing his boots from the doorway once more, and his cloak. “No. Before you take me on, I’ve mostly done peace missions with the other Masters.”

“You may be surprised, depending on which prisoner we meet, how normal they seem, at first,” Hannibal noted. “There is something to be said for the banality of evil. Monsters are not always apparent at first glance.”

“Monsters are capable of disguise and deceit,” Will said with some knowledge. He was able to catch on quickly, see things most wouldn’t.

An odd, soft smile graced Hannibal’s sharp features, “you are wise beyond your years.”

Will tied up his cloak, walking out the door and then with Hannibal to the ship. “I’ve grown in the last week. You’re rubbing off on me.”

The wind caught their cloaks, making them flutter behind the Jedi as they boarded their ship. “We’ve only begun a week ago. If a student shows progress in such a short time, credit must go to both padawan and master.”

“I’m a fast learner when need be,” Will admitted, clear that perhaps he wasn’t trying very hard with his last Masters. He boarded and got into the pilot seat once more, feeling much better from earlier.

“When motivated sufficiently?” Hannibal chuckled, watching Will as he took control of the ship, admiring him.

Will nodded as they lifted off and headed toward the detention area. “Aren’t we all just a little self-serving?”

“It’s vital to serve the self,” Hannibal noted. “We have a responsibility for our own survival, for our own happiness, in every respect. If one is not responsible for one’s identity, one’s passions, the world at large will crush them alive in its machinery, particularly within the confines of an institution .”

Will smiled over at Hannibal, eyes bright as he listened. They always seemed to be on a wavelength together, bonding their natures. “Can’t help the galaxy if you don’t help yourself.”

“You have a way with words,” Hannibal chuckled. “Yes, precisely. You may be counseled to the contrary in the academy, but self-interest is a virtue.”

“Exactly.”

They landed and Will sat there for a moment to collect himself, then stood, waiting at the end of the ramp for Hannibal. The closer they got, the more nervous he felt. A sith was just another being, someone with more dark in them than he could possibly imagine.

Master Chilton met them at the doors of the Detention Center and gave them a gloating smile. “Come to interview some of my inmates, have you?” he asked, as he looked at his own nails.

“That’s the idea.” Will smiled back stiffly. “If you wouldn’t mind?” Will gestured his head toward the door.

“I’ll allow it, for the sake of the investigation,” Chilton said, and shot Hannibal a look before he waved for a guard to open the doors. “After you, gentlemen.”

Will entered first, hands clasped in front of him as he walked the aisles, but never too far ahead. He felt out each cell and the soul inside, but the further he got in the harder it was to feel… anything. “Which?”

“The cell at the end,” Chilton said and pointed. “You’ll have to use your intellect, padawan. We have to use ysalamiri to keep the prisoner from using the Force for an escape, but I’m _sure_ you’ll do just fine.”

That explained it. Will nodded, more than aware he had his wits about him. It was just an interview after all. Will walked to the last cell, looking in, and feeling very much alone without his sixth sense about him.

“Thank you, Frederick,” Hannibal said, politely, but curtly as they left Chilton behind and walked together to the cell at the end of the row.

In the cell was an intense looking man with dark skin, and alarming, yellow eyes that seemed to burn a hole into whomever he looked at. He stood when Will and Hannibal approached and looked them over. “You’re the Jedi they said would come. Why? What is it you want?” Tobias asked, and sauntered to the front of his cell.

“We’re curious about a Sith Lord who has been killing recently. Looks like a Wendigo,” Will said, calmly, standing a little closer to Hannibal, making him his rock.

Tobias blinked his scorched yellow eyes and seemed frozen for a second by Will’s question before he stepped up to the bars, staring through them at Will. “How would a _Padawan_ know anything about a wendigo?”

“I’ve seen pictures, read up on it. A wendigo hair was left at the last crime scene. So, do you know anything?” Will kept to the topic, he wouldn’t stray far.

“Read up on them?” Tobias said, mockingly, but his palms looked sweaty under the white light above his head. “You have no idea what you’re asking, and I’m not talking about _that_ without something in return.”

Will looked back at Hannibal, and then to Frederick who stood nearby, but seemed like he was attempting to give them space. He turned back to Tobias. “I’m _just_ a padawan, what could I possibly give you?”

“You? _Nothing,”_ Tobias sneered. “But the peacock who struts around here with the keys? I think he could arrange something…” Tobias turned his back, haughtily.

Will narrowed his eyes and then looked to Master Chilton once more, beckoning him over. He wasn’t going to let the bargain be that he be let go, he wouldn’t go that far. One sith for another wasn’t worth it. “Is there anything you can offer?”

Chilton sighed, and walked closer, whispering to Will, “Outdoor privileges for three hours a week, an extra meal a day.”

Nodding, Will stepped close to the cell once more. “Three hours outside per week, and an extra meal a day. Will that work?”

“Please, the slop they serve?” Tobias asked, and turned to glare at Chilton, his eyes burning as Chilton backed away. “Half a day outside, four times a week, a cell with a private bathroom, and one of these _lizards_ removed so that I can _feel_ again,” Tobias growled.

Even Will knew that wasn’t a good deal, not for a simple question answered. A Sith with the ability of any kind here was dangerous. “I’d be surprised if he agreed to the last, I wouldn’t. The information I ask for isn’t much, just information. A name even. Everything else but the last.”

Tobias turned his burning gaze to Will, furiously. “A name? Do you think a _name_ is such a safe thing to give this creature? Do you know the power he has? The reach? There is nowhere in the galaxy _anyone_ is safe from him. Not even in here, not even with these ugly _lizards_ keeping us all, deaf, dumb, and blind, _padawan.”_

“Then I really want to stop him. Someone like that doesn’t deserve all that power. Won’t you help me do that?” Will asked, stepping a little closer. “It’ll grant you a few things you want.”

“You’re asking me to sign my own death warrant, padawan. You need to read up on the Wendigo a little more,” Tobias hissed, darkly. “This place is bad enough that I might not care that he’ll come and end it for me, soon, but I demand a little comfort before it happens, you _fool.”_

“All my research says the Wendigo is a mythical creature. I need facts, not myths,” Will stated, not backing down from the Sith, who could do nothing to him here. “Last chance to get some of what you wanted, or you’ll get none of it.”

Chilton stepped closer to Will, his body turned away from Tobias, and whispered: “everything he asked for … except the ysalamiri stay in place.” Chilton retreated down the hall, again.

“Everything but the Ysalamiri,” Will repeated to the Sith.

Tobias’s eyes hooded, and he laughed. “I knew you’d never allow that in the first place. Fine. We can talk,” Tobias agreed, and gave Will an unnerving look. “First question.”

“What’s his name?”

Tobias rolled his eyes. “His name is the _least_ interesting thing about him. Darth Ravenous.”

“Darth Ravenous,” Will tried the name on his tongue, it felt right, honestly. Fitting for someone obsessed with eating others. “So, if his name isn’t interesting enough, what is?”

“He’s killed at least as many of the Sith as he has anyone else. He’s never taken an apprentice. No one’s ever seen his face, not his real face. He’s a shapeshifter, and it’s not an illusion, his body changes into whatever serves him best.”

Will let that sink in for a moment. He’d been right then the first time in assuming humanoid, and also right in the Wendigo. “A monster in all rights, not just title. He could be… anyone or anything at this very moment.” Will took a deep breath, as that sort of notion made him a bit uneasy, considering everyone they passed day in and day out. “Why no apprentice?”

“No one knows,” Tobias said. “I don’t think anyone would survive the asking. These murders that he’s done out there, the ones you see? That’s him being _polite.”_

“He’s killed more under the radar then?” Will canted his head, thoughtfully. “Or we’re not looking hard enough, seeing only what we want to see. Have you ever met him?”

Tobias swallowed. “Once…” he said and took a deep breath before he shuddered.

“Is that why you turned yourself in? To hide from him?” Will asked, curious now just how many had died at the hand of their killer without the Jedi or Republic knowing.

Tobias glared at Will, malevolently. “If you’d ever seen him hunt, you’d watch your tongue, _youngling.”_

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Will stepped back, sure he had gotten all he could from him. “Anything else or is that all the information you have?”

“We’re not evil,” Tobias said, after a moment. “Not in the way you Jedi seem to think. The Sith make a pact with the darkness to get what we want, what we _need._ We use the darkness, but we don’t love it, we love what we get with it. We’re realists. Ravenous, however,” Tobias swallowed, just breathing for a moment, collecting himself as he curled a hand around the bars.

“He loves it. He _loves_ the dark. He’s not a sith because he wants power because he wants immortality, none of that. He is _dark for darkness’s sake._ No one knows where he came from. No one knows how old he is. I think he might be the dark side itself. He _enjoys_ everything he’s done. He loves it. He is the only happy Sith lord alive.”

 _Alive because he’s killed the rest,_ Will thought, chewing the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t great information, but it was something, and it at least gave them an idea of what they were up against. “Embrace it, or be unhappy,” he whispered. “Thank you for your time. Master Chilton will see to it that you get everything.”

Will stepped back, toward Hannibal, worry etched into the crease of his young brow.

Hannibal put a hand on Will’s shoulder, and walked out with him, back into the public hallway, into the Force. “You did very well.”

Getting the Force back was a relief he never knew he needed. Will wanted to wade in it quietly for a few minutes, but he knew they had to get out of here first. “I’m not sure if that information was helpful more than it was daunting.”

“We know more now than we did when we arrived,” Hannibal said, supportively, and watched the effect having his full senses back had on Will.

“That’s true. I don’t know if much of it is useful though. If he’s killing under our noses and these last ones are just for show…” Will gestured a hand, still processing the information. “Even the Sith are afraid of him, so how can we compare?”

“You have abilities that the sith do not, Will,” Hannibal reminded Will as they boarded the ship again. “Never underestimate your own power.”

“I hardly think those count as anything great against a ravenous sith lord who kills because he enjoys it,” Will sighed, plopping down in the pilot’s seat once more. “What happens if I do find him? What then? He’ll destroy me.”

Hannibal sat opposite Will, gracefully, and contemplated Will’s words with a nearly amused look in his eyes. “That is an assumption that might serve Darth Ravenous well, Will.”

“I’ve only just really started to use my lightsaber. I’m self-aware of what I’m capable of,” Will answered as he lifted them off. “Home or?”

“I think, perhaps, learning more about wendigo may be the best tactic, which begs the question: where and how may we learn of them?” Hannibal asked.

“All the texts are of him being mythical, not real. Maybe one of the libraries will have more,” Will suggested, bumping the coordinates to the library instead.

“That would be a wise place to start,” Hannibal agreed. “If we can find a text on wendigo that is sufficiently detailed, perhaps, we can find the living author of such a text.”

“It’d have to be fairly new.” Will hummed in thought, but had hope that they might find something. “Someone perhaps he’s left alive to tell his tale. Just a little something, well hidden, not observed much. No one takes it seriously.”

“Which helps keep our wendigo well-hidden,” Hannibal agreed. “Hunting a myth is much more difficult than hunting a creature of flesh and blood.”

“But also gives him enough exposure and sense of being seen.” Will landed them once more and stood. “Attention but not too much. Only, now he wants more attention. A book isn’t enough, it’s only held him over for a short time. The world is bleak when no one knows you’re around to fear you.”

Hannibal smiled to himself and looked over at his uncanny Padawan. “You think he longs to be feared?”

“I think he longs for a lot of things. Different trains of thought and one is definitely for his own amusement.” Will stepped off the ramp and onto the path into the downtown area, toward the library. “Fear can be amusing.”

“Did you find Chilton’s fear amusing in the bowels of the Detention Center?” Hannibal, asked, with an eyebrow raise.

“Perhaps if I wasn’t so aware as to why he was fearing,” Will answered, taking up pace with Hannibal as they walked. “That sith could easily snuff him out if he were allowed.”

Hannibal nodded, “Quite true. Given the opportunity, I am certain Tobias would dismember Master Chilton limb from limb.”

“Should our Wendigo Sith not get to Tobias first.” Will tilted his head up at Hannibal with a soft, wry smile.

“He seemed to fear as much. What do you fear, Will?” Hannibal asked, with a tilt of his head.

“Being left behind,” Will answered, easily, without a thought. It’d always been his biggest issue, the one thing made it hard for him to get close to others. Hannibal was the first person he’d let in, and for good reason.

“I cannot imagine being able to leave you behind. In a very short time, you’ve become an integral part of my life,” Hannibal admitted.

Heart aflutter from those words, Will moved in a little closer to Hannibal so their arms touched once. “I trust you when you say that. It means a lot to me.”

Hannibal reached his arm out, and touched Will’s hand for a moment, between them, then let his hand drift away again. “You’re very warm.”

“Thank you?” Will chuckled lightly, not to draw much attention to them as they approached the large, gold trim library doors.

“Your headache of earlier has dissipated?” Hannibal asked, and waved the door open for them both.

“It’s lingering in the back of my skull, but it’s not so bad.” Will was never one to complain, he’d power through. Stepping through the open doors, his eyes wandered the many aisles of older books and set out to find the section they needed by checking the digital archive.

“If it returns, tell me,” Hannibal murmured, and noticed once again, how many pairs of eyes in a public place were drawn to his oblivious padawan.

Will glanced at Hannibal as he flipped through the digital holos of the archive system, looking up keywords such as ‘wendigo’ and ‘non-fiction’. “You’ll be the first one I tell,” he said coyly.

“I’m relieved that you’re feeling better,” Hannibal said, and set off to search for the books they required in his own way. He was well-acquainted with the library’s massive archive of texts and returned in a moment with three books in hand.

Will turned to tell Hannibal which ones but the Master had already returned. “Oh.” He closed the search and walked with Hannibal to a table to read them over. “You’ll have to teach me all your tricks.”

“That will take some time,” Hannibal said, with a sly smirk, and handed Will a book, allowing their hands to brush.

Will’s eyes gleamed brightly against the fresh flush to his pale skin. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.” He took the book and sat down, reading through the table of contents first.

“A very good thing. I have yet to sketch you, Will,” Hannibal reminded Will, turning pages.

“I’m not stopping you.” Will grinned over at Hannibal once and then back to the book.

“I’d rather sketch you at home,” Hannibal confided under his breath, as he opened his book to a chapter on the Wendigo.

“Would you prefer to see if we can borrow these?” Will asked, leaning over to see what Hannibal was looking at.

Under Hannibal’s fingertips was a drawing of a very tall, dark figure with black eyes and long, sharp antlers that tapered like branches. “I’m certain we can examine these at home,” he said, and closed the book, then handed it to Will. “They’ve allowed me to borrow rare first editions on occasion.”

Will took the other two in hand and stood, cloak flowing behind him. “Well let’s go ask then?” He almost held out his hand for Hannibal but tucked it under the books instead.

Hannibal noticed the gesture that Will did not allow himself to make, and followed him, with a smile. Moments later, the librarian allowed them to sign their books out, and they were back in the ship, headed home.

Once home, Will set his boots by the door, then his cloak hung up, and books on the coffee table.

Only then did he allow himself to hug Hannibal.

Will possessed a unique ability to take him entirely by surprise. Hannibal turned toward Will, and gathered him up with both arms, hugging the smaller man to his chest, one hand cradled against the curve of the back of Will’s skull before he let him go. “Have you been waiting to embrace me, Will?” The darkness in Hannibal’s eyes became velvety when they beheld the younger man.

“Yes.” Will smiled, not lingering too far away when he took a step back. It had been fleeting, but after their afternoon, he felt he needed it. “Small comforts.”

With that, Will went to sit on the sofa and picked up the book he’d been reading, where he left off, leaving room for Hannibal to sit with him.

Hannibal removed his cloak, and boots, and disappeared into his room, then returned with a sketch pad, and a sharp charcoal, then sat next to Will on the couch and began to sketch him, at once. “Have you ever had your portrait drawn before, Will?”

Quirking a brow at Hannibal, Will watched him a moment. “Can’t say I have.”

“I’m surprised. I feel as though I’ve seen your face in sculptures and paintings across the universe, in museum after museum,” Hannibal said, honestly.

“Perhaps premonitions of the what was to come,” Will suggested with a little smile. “Sometimes we see in things that of what we are wishing for?”

Hannibal smiled at the observation and paused in his sketching for a moment. “Have you experienced as much?” he asked, curiously.

“When I was much younger. Didn’t think too much of it after being placed with so many Masters.” Will had, admittedly, had a vision when he was still a youngling, of someone like Hannibal, but had lost touch with the thought years later. “I’m opting to believe in it now.”

“You saw my face?” Hannibal asked, curiously, engrossed in capturing Will’s likeness again. It was a tender moment, domestic and simple: Will reading, Hannibal sketching, as though they’d lived together, forever.

“No, but your presence, if that makes sense. The way it wraps around me is much like that of a what I felt as a child.” Will had not placed it the first time, but on thinking about it now, he knew. Hair fell into his eyes as he turned a page.

“When you sensed my presence,” Hannibal asked, “what did you feel, as a child?” He smiled at the errant strands of Will’s hair and sketched them before Will could shake them out of the way.

“Comfort. It's what I feel now when we are together.” Will pushed the strands back behind his ear once more.

A soft flush glowed over Hannibal’s high cheekbones, and he looked at Will as his heart fluttered in his chest. “I take great pride in being your source of comfort, Will.”

It meant everything to Will that Hannibal ended up being just that. His luck had changed, shifting his life for the better. “As you should.”

“There is something to be said for being trusted by a person who trusts very few,” Hannibal said, softly, as he sketched Will’s nose.

Will chuckled at that, very well aware of how ‘picky’ he could be with those he trusted and kept close. He was quiet a bit longer, letting Hannibal sketch while he flipped through the book, but wasn’t finding much in terms of realism. “Do you suppose when Tobias said the Sith was a shapeshifter, that he’s taking forms even of those that are mythical? We could be chasing a ghost here--a dead end.”

“I think that is something only Ravenous could answer,” Hannibal said, thoughtfully, and blended a line with his finger. “If Wendigo are natural shifters of shape, if that is part of their identities, I would guess that he is a wendigo first, and everything else second. Do you ever feel as though you, too, are a shapeshifter, Will? You are able to blur into the identities of those around you, even those whom you have never met?”

“A mental shapeshifter?” Will smiled at the thought, he’d never quite looked at it that way, but it wasn’t wrong.

“I would argue that the processes are strikingly similar,” Hannibal said, “as are the consequences.”

“Perhaps. Only you’ll see me as myself, in this form, either way. Our Sith could be… anyone.” Will canted his head at Hannibal, thoughtfully. He looked down at the book once more, reading a few more paragraphs. “Says here the Wendigo, according to sightings of it, dwell on the planet Lithua.”

“Perhaps Darth Ravenous craves being seen as he really is,” Hannibal mused, and looked over Will’s shoulder, at the book. Their faces brushed, cheek to cheek as they looked at the book, together. “Lithua,” Hannibal repeated, pronouncing it with just such an inflection that it sounded familiar on his lips.

Hannibal’s cheek felt cool near his own, much warmer one. “An outer rim planet. Likely not visited too much,” Will mused, mostly getting his thoughts out loud.

“If at all,” Hannibal nodded, and let himself settle in behind Will, intimately, one long, lean arm around Will’s chest.

Will leaned in against Hannibal, resting there, comfortably. “ _We_ could.”

Hannibal took a deep breath and closed his eyes as though his own head hurt with the thought. “It may not be pleasant,” he warned Will. “Creatures born to endure anything are not typically born into a cradle of life. They are likely born into a harsh world, barren of comfort.”

“You sound as though you have some sympathy for our Sith creature,” Will said, tilting his head back to look at Hannibal, watching his features carefully. “We don’t have to go. It was just a thought.”

“If I am sympathetic, I suppose I may have contracted some of your empathy,” Hannibal whispered, looking into Will’s eyes. “We are beginning to blur, you and I.”

“One in the Force together.” Will lifted his hand and pressed it into Hannibal’s, palm-to-palm, their connection staggering and almost overwhelming. “You feel I’m becoming empathetic toward our Sith?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said and laced their fingers together. “You have, nearly from the very beginning. That is what the others are unable to do, to see this creature as more than a mindless beast.”

“Definitely not mindless. His… art has shown us that much.” Will took a deep breath, honing in our their connection, his eyes meeting Hannibal’s without looking away. “You see it, too. Why can’t they?”

“Arrogance,” Hannibal answered, softly. “I fear it will be the downfall of the Jedi, our collective inability to understand, despite our ability to manipulate the ultimate connection between all living creatures.”

“Easy to be blinded by what we see as good, and what is wholly good.” Will moved so his shoulder rested under Hannibal’s, and his head on his shoulder, just over his chest, their hands still entwined.

“Do you believe our murderous Sith still capable of good?” Hannibal asked, Will, as he held them. Their reading and sketching had been abandoned in favor of being close, like this. Hannibal’s cool bodycradling Will’s warmer one.

“I feel that he believes he is doing good, but with the knowledge that it’s not social standard, and not good in the eyes of everyone else. It’s subjective to a certain point of view,” Will explained.

“Can morality distill to a matter of intent?” Hannibal asked Will, lips brushing the outer shell of Will’s tender ear.

“Why not?” Will whispered back, Shivering once, as a new flush creeping over his skin, up to his delicate ear under Hannibal’s lips.

Hannibal planted a chaste kiss to Will’s temple, still holding him close from behind. “I’ve always found absolute morality a crude and vulgar tool of judgment in a nuanced world.”

“I’m assuming the other Masters aren’t aware of your viewpoint,” Will whispered, but not with any sort of conviction.

“I’ve never shared my viewpoint with the other Masters,” Hannibal whispered, honestly. “I’m certain they would feel duty-bound to agree.”

“It’s probably best you don’t share.” Will snuggled in closer, or as close as he could get in his position. Being like this with someone was new and comforting in ways he’d never imagined.

“I am well aware of that,” Hannibal purred, lost in the comfortable intimacy of being curled up with Will in this way. “All too aware of the acceptable and unacceptable parts of myself.”

“Everyone has them. The council thinks we shouldn’t.” Will had, after all, hidden bits of himself since he was brought to train.

“Do you, Will? What is it you hide away, even from me?” Hannibal asked, and stroked his fingers through Will’s fleecy curls.

“Nothing I hold on to or do now. I used to sneak out of the academy, wander around, do the things younglings shouldn’t. I think Master Yoda maybe knows, but he’s never said.” Will canted his head into Hannibal’s touch. “I’ve stolen before because I didn’t like the gruel they made us eat.”

“What was it that you stole?” Hannibal asked, with amusement in his eyes.

“Bread. Meats. Anything but awful rations and computer made things,” Will chuckled, shrugging. “Never caught but my conscience did.”

“I wish I had known. I would have had you over for dinner, as often as possible,” Hannibal promised and rested his palm over Will’s perfect, human heart.

Breathing in deep as Hannibal did that, Will glanced at him, smiling. “I’d have probably preferred that. It’s surprising we hadn’t run into each other.”

“And unfortunate,” Hannibal sighed. “It was impossible to realize how lonely I had become before I met you. Now that I am able to look back, at my life before your friendship, I am struck by the nearly complete solitude in which I lived, for decades.”

“Loneliness can be a dark pit of despair,” Will agreed, all too aware of how he’d put himself in one without realizing he needed someone like Hannibal. “I’m glad to have our… friendship, too.”

“Is friendship sufficiently encompassing? The term feels like a blanket that is too small, and always leaves something uncovered,” Hannibal admitted.

“I think it’s fitting for the moment, but might not be as we grow together.” Will nosed against Hannibal’s jaw just once and then settled against him once more. Friendship could last a long time, or so he was told. He didn’t want to lose that by assuming more.

The little nudge of Will’s nose produced a strange, fluttering sensation in Hannibal’s chest. “For now, friendship is what we’ll call it: this strange thing we’ve made, together.”

It was a little disheartening, but Will knew he was naive in this sort of thing, and Hannibal was older and much more experienced. He trusted his Master. “Perfect.”

Hannibal realized that in growing to need Will, he had begun to _fear_ losing him. Fear was not familiar to him, at least it had not been in a very long time, not since Mischa had been alive. “Would you care to see the beginning of your portrait?”

“Yes.” Will sat up, setting the book aside for now, to give Hannibal his attention; that he hadn’t been before, but he was shifting gears.

Hannibal picked the sketchpad up, and handed it to Will, showing him the beginning of a portrait of a startlingly handsome young man who read a book.

Will smiled a little, shifting his gaze from the picture to Hannibal. It’s definitely not how he saw himself.

“It’s more detailed than the one in your mind palace.”

“The portrait in my mind palace becomes more detailed over time as I notice more and more about you. I don’t think I will ever be finished drawing you, Will. You evolve so quickly, and so often that an artist’s hand struggles to keep pace.”

Will smiled at that, and kissed Hannibal's cheek. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as such,” Hannibal said and found himself a little frozen and breathless, just from a kiss on the _cheek._ He’d had many lovers, none of them had managed to make Hannibal flustered with any level of salacious behavior … let alone a touch of lips to his cheek. It was perfectly innocent, and ground-shaking, at the same time.

Taking Hannibal's moment of being flustered, Will crawled into his lap, hands on his shoulders. “I appreciate it, _master_.”

Hannibal’s eyes flashed dark with lust as Will climbed into his lap, and reached up with one hand against Will’s strong jaw, then dragged the pad of his thumb over the lower curve of Will’s rosy lip. “Are you teasing me, _Padawan_?” Hannibal asked, with a soft, but wicked grin on his own lips.

Biting his lower lip, Will breathed and nodded. “Maybe I am. Is that rules for punishment? Or reward?”

Hannibal licked his own lip, and shifted his jaw slowly, which made shadows pool beneath his high cheekbones. He was a passionate man, but devilishly patient. “Perhaps I ought to administer the consequence of your teasing, and allow you to decide which it was.”

“That's… highly insufficient.” Will laughed, boyishly. He wanted badly to kiss his Master, but it didn't feel right, not with that reply. Will crawled off Hannibal, and smiled, going to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Hannibal looked over his shoulder at Will, watching him retreat to the kitchen with a smile. Will was easily the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on, but he was precariously young. “In ancient times, Padawan were used in a capacity much more like servants than students.”

“Am I your servant?” Will asked from the kitchen, bringing them both glasses of water. He sat back down, looking at the book once more.

Time would present itself if it were meant to be.

“If you were, you would hold my robe in the temple, brush my hair back in the morning, and hand me soap when I bathe,” Hannibal said, as he considered his glass of water.

“Do you want me to hold your hair back as you bathe?” Will asked with a laugh, sipping his water as he turned pages. “It is very long, I would doubt your need for help.”

Hannibal laughed with Will. Laughing with someone, like this, was not something he did, often. Hannibal laughed at others but never allowed himself to be carried away by the feeling of it. Will, once again, was different. “Should I cut it?” I’ve considered as much. It’s quite heavy.”

“I like it. Just don't expect me to wash it." Will leaned into Hannibal, sharing his book with him.

“I had no hope of you washing my hair. You’d make a terrible servant, at any rate. The smart remarks and mocking commentary would never cease,” Hannibal said, affectionately.

Will laughed out loud. “Finally someone understands me.” He looked over at Hannibal, grinning from ear to ear.

“That you are impertinent? I understood as much the moment I felt your presence. Your fine features belie the coarseness that lies beneath,” Hannibal teased, as he tucked some of Will’s wild curls behind one of his ears for him. “You are stubborn, abrupt, and sarcastic.”

“I am who I am.”


	5. Chapter 5

The comm sounded early the next morning with what sounded like an emergency tone, waking the two occupants of Hannibal’s bed. Hannibal was asleep, with Will who was laying over his master’s chest, in Hannibal’s arms. Both of the Jedi were fully dressed in pajamas, but curled together, intimately.

Will stretched at the sound, blinking his eyes, and only then realizing that something was amiss about his room. He curled against Hannibal and realized at that he was _not_ in his room. When had he moved? Bolting upright, he looked around, and then quickly slipped out of Hannibal’s bed, down the hall to get the comm.

Hannibal followed his hair not tied back yet, and caught up to his padawan quickly as they rounded the corner to answer the emergency tone. Of course, it was Master Crawford. “Tobias Bulge just broke out of the Detention Centre. Both of you are alright?” Jack asked, looking between the sleepy, disheveled men.

“Yeah.” Will sighed, groggily, still unaware of how he’d managed to get into Hannibal’s bed, but that was something to think about later. “He broke out?”

“They realized that he was missing this morning when they found the bodies of eight guards,” Jack sighed.

“Eight?” Hannibal asked, with a frown. “How did he manage to get past the ysalamiri?”

“Live long enough without the Force, and he could figure it out,” Will murmured, rubbing his eyes, still trying to wake up. “Don’t need the Force to get past them. They’re lizards.”

“I recall that he referred to them as such,” Hannibal sighed. “More than once, if memory serves.”

“There’s more,” Jack said, grimly. “Franklyn is missing. I gather he hasn’t been in touch?”

Hannibal went very still, and then looked at Will, wide-eyed as he seemed to realize the implication. “They knew one another, a long time ago,” Hannibal explained to Will.

“So, the thinking is that Tobias got out and went after him?” Will asked, a deep-seated dread aching through his chest at the thought. “He’s probably dead then.”

“Given what Tobias can do, I think dead may be the best outcome,” Jack sighed. “We need the two of you to search, and Will, whatever you can give us…”

Nodding, Will agreed silently, trying wake his mind up, but it was harder this morning, muddled and difficult to get moving. He wiped his eyes once more and shuffled back to his room to get ready.

Hannibal ended the conversation with Jack and did the same. When Will emerged, the Jedi master was dressed in grey robes, hair tied back at the nape of his neck, and was preparing a quick breakfast.

He looked up at Will, and his hands paused in the motion of arranging a scone on a plate. “Good morning, Will.”

“Officially,” Will murmured, in his darker tunic today. He leaned on the counter, watching Hannibal, wondering if his Master would bring it up, or if they’d simply let it go.

Hannibal handed Will a cup of coffee and his plate, amber eyes searching Will’s face for any sign that he was going to ask…

“What do you recall from last night, Will?”

“I had dreams I was chasing an animal, of some kind.” Will took the cup and plate, and broke off a piece of the scone, plopping it into his mouth. “Did… did I sleepwalk?”

“It seems so,” Hannibal said, and took his own dish and coffee to the table, hoping Will would join him.

Will followed, obediently, and took a seat across from Hannibal. “I apologize for ending up in your bed.”

The fine lines around Hannibal’s eyes jumped to life when he smiled. “No need to apologize, Will. I was not troubled in the least,” he said, with a fond, soft gaze. “Once I had ascertained that you were not in distress, we slept well.”

“You were aware then.” Will breathed out as if he had been holding it. He took another bite, chasing it with coffee.

“I was. It seemed to calm you to sleep with me, which was a relief, as you seemed rather frantic when you woke me. Of course, if you dreamed of a chase, that explains your somnolescent actions,” Hannibal said, smiling with a reassuring air.

“Thanks for dealing with me, then,” Will murmured around his last bite and brushed his fingers off over the plate. “Terrible you had to share your bed.”

“I would not call it a hardship,” Hannibal assured Will, with a subtle smirk. “Shall we go find out what fate has befallen Franklyn? I must confess, I do not have much hope that he is found alive and well. Tobias has been captive for years, likely fantasizing of just such an opportunity.”

Will finished his drink with a nod, and stood, taking their dishes to the kitchen. “It's troublesome he's gotten out, and so easily.”

“Perhaps the new privileges we managed to procure reminded him of the world he has been locked away from for so long,” Hannibal sighed and followed Will.

“That's possible.” He walked out after getting his boots on and his cloak. “We will need to find him, too.”

“I’m sure he has no small list of those whom he wants to kill,” Hannibal said, leading the way. “Jack and the others will have searched closer to the temple. Let us begin on this side of the city, and work our way back.”

“That works,” Will said and followed Hannibal, away from their dwelling and toward the center of the city.

“I don’t suppose you sense anything that might lead us one way, or the other?” Hannibal asked, but knew that the dead were bereft of the force, lost to them.

Will paused, closing his eyes, reaching out for any last sign of Franklyn. “Cheese…”

“Cheese?” Hannibal repeated with his fair eyebrows lifted halfway up his forehead.

“Something to do with cheese. That’s where he is.” Will opened his eyes, aware of a few factories around the area. “We’ve got cheesemakers in the city don’t we?”

“A handful of note,” Hannibal said, as they looked around, together. “The nearest is five minutes that way.” Hannibal gestured to his left, at a block of more industrial-looking buildings than the rest of the neighborhood.

The close they walked, the stronger the smell of cheese, and the stronger the feeling of dread filled Will from his core out, heart racing. “I have a bad feeling…”

“As do I,” Hannibal agreed and tried the door of the cheese shop when they arrived. It opened, unlocked. “It’s not supposed to be open, quite yet.”

“That doesn’t bode well for Franklyn,” Will murmured and slipped through first, hand on his weapon at his belt.

Hannibal also kept one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber as they entered, together, mindful that Tobias was still very much loose, and could be waiting for the Jedi to attempt a rescue. Careful steps were taken and Will lead through to another room, steaming hot inside, with large cylinder-like containers, full vats of hot cheese.

Will ran up the platform to the top floor, overlooking the tops of the containers.

Hannibal followed, just behind Will, and there, floating in one of the enormous vats, was Franklyn. His eyes were open, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. “We should alert Jack,” Hannibal said and noted the bent and broken railing where a fight had taken place before Franklyn had been pushed over the side.

Will might not have liked the Jedi Master much, but no one deserved a hot, molten cheese death. “Did you bring a comm?”

Hannibal nodded and handed his over to Will as he examined the scene with a heavy sigh. “Alas, poor Franklyn. He made an idol of the wrong person, and likely tried to make a pet of a creature that should never have been tamed.”

Will raised a brow at Hannibal, but said nothing. Instead, he brought the small comm to his mouth to speak over it to Jack, giving him all the details of where they were and how they found Franklyn. He handed the comm back once Jack said he’d be there soon with the police. “He’s on his way.”

“What can you glean from Franklyn’s demise, Will?” Hannibal asked as he watched Franklyn’s body float in slow, lazy circles.

“Other than the fear that’s hanging in the air?” Will crouched lower near the vat, steam circling up toward them. “Epiphany. He was chased here. He tried to fight him, but...no match.”

“One should not speak ill of the dead, but I am afraid to say Franklyn was … frequently outmatched. Tobias would have left him utterly defenseless,” Hannibal sighed.

“One cannot fight if they are bogged down on cheese,” Will said with a glance up at Hannibal, and then stood once more.

“Franklyn was never a fighter, in any capacity,” Hannibal agreed, as he heard Jack and the others come in through the door.

Will stilled and looked over as they entered, stepping out of the way to give Jack and the crew with him room to see. “Death by what he loved most.”

Jack and the other Jedi stopped at the edge of the walkway with the same expression: bewildered resignation to Franklyn’s strange death.

“Chased and pushed in,” Will told Jack, just to confirm.

“He and Tobias used to be acquaintances from Tobias’s point of view, close friends from Franklyn’s,” Jack said. “It’s just … the whole situation is sad. Let’s get him out of there.”

“We’ll take care of it, Jack,” Hannibal assured Jack. “Perhaps yourself and the others are better put to use searching for Tobias.”

Will touched the rail where it had broken, to get a good sense of the situation and perhaps where Tobias had gone. Nothing here pointed to Tobias, nor did it give Will an idea where he might go. It was as if he hadn’t been there at all.

“Yeah, we’ll get Franklyn out. It’s just cheese.”

Jack nodded and motioned for the others to come with him, leaving behind a large body bag for Franklyn’s corpse. “A shame the cheese was ruined,” Hannibal noted and moved his hand to lift Franklyn out, with the Force.

Will held the body bag open to get Franklyn in and gave Hannibal a wry look. “I hear it wasn’t the best.”

Hannibal smiled a little, slyly, at Will, and lowered Franklyn into the bag. It was just the two of them now, they could be themselves. “What a shame. Perhaps Tobias enjoys cheese as well, and didn’t want to taint the finest batch,” Hannibal joked, softly.

“I’d imagine they’d be better friends if he enjoyed cheese _that_ much.” Will zipped up the bag, closing off the cloying cheese stench and decay.

Hannibal laughed aloud at Will and gazed at him over the body before he lifted it with the force so that it floated behind them as they walked, slowly. “I think if you were to die doing what it is you loved, you’d die mocking me, Will.”

Will tilted his chin proudly at that, mostly teasingly, and walked with Hannibal, easing the load with help from the Force. “Perhaps I would. I’d die happy at least.”

“Your corpse would find some way to look smug,” Hannibal said with a smile at Will, “so that even as I grieve, I would feel your judgment for my tears.”

Laughing out loud, Will nudged Hannibal’s mind with his own, fondly. “Perhaps I’d become a Force Ghost and haunt you with that expression ever stuck on my face.”

“You say that as though that expression is not already ‘stuck on your face’,” Hannibal teased back, the two of them bantering like children as they removed the body from the cheesemaker’s shop.

Will rolled his eyes for good measure as they took the body out, and away from the building toward home to the ship. “You love it.”

“Perhaps my happiest death would be one met while I was staring at your smug expression,” Hannibal said with a little smile and felt with a pang, just how true that was.

Will laughed harder, and then covered his mouth when a few people looked over at him. “That’s to suggest _I’d_ be the cause of your death.”

“You do have your moments, Will,” Hannibal whispered, with a wink at his padawan. The sight of the floating body bag behind the Jedi drew a few stares as they moved together down the street, back toward Hannibal’s abode.

“Just a few?” Will ignored the stares, as he always had, and once at the house, they put the body on the ship to take back to the temple.

“I was referring to the moments in which you are _not_ attempting to provoke me,” Hannibal quipped, and gave Will a little nudge as they boarded the ship.

“When is that?” Will settled into the seat, feeling lighter than he had earlier, despite there being a dead body oozing cheese behind their seats.

“You are very respectful when asleep,” Hannibal said, both of them in a buoyant mood.

“Except when I manage my way into your bed.” Will lifted them off and toward the temple.

Hannibal laughed in agreement and nodded. “Even then, you were agreeable. I think I prefer you when you sleepwalk, to be honest,” Hannibal said, pleased that Will seemed less embarrassed about his nocturnal wandering now.

If Hannibal wasn’t upset, then Will figured he shouldn’t be either. Hopefully, it wouldn’t happen again. They landed, and Will helped Hannibal float the body out once more, walking it to the temple. “Will they give him a proper burial?”

“Yes, after cleaning,” Hannibal said, as attendants accepted the body with a solemn nod. Hannibal waited until they were back aboard their ship before looking at Will. “I doubt Franklyn will become a Force Ghost…”

“I don’t think so. He wasn’t quite…” Will gestured, he couldn’t really think of the word, as one didn’t fit Franklyn.

“Would you think I was terribly callous if I confessed that I sincerely hope Franklyn does not become a Force Ghost?” Hannibal asked his padawan, with the barest smirk on his full lips.

“No. I don't think anyone wants to have ghost Franklyn around forever to talk about cheese.” Will got them going once more, off into the air and heading home.

Hannibal chuckled and agreed with Will. “It would become impossible to persuade him to leave. That said, it is, of course, a great tragedy,” Hannibal said, politely, and without emotion. “Where do you imagine Tobias has taken cover? If he were wise, a stolen ship would take him far enough before it would be reported to the authorities.”

“Have any been reported stolen?” Will asked, wondering if they'd get a better sense at home, as something was tugging him there.

“I would think that Jack and the others have already done so. When we’re inside, we can ask,” Hannibal answered, with a nod of his head.

Will landed their craft once more and existed, walking back to their abode. “Good idea. That will give us something to go off.”

Hannibal opened their door with a wave of his hand, and he and Will walked in together. Hannibal removed and hung up his cloak. “Are you hungry, Will? I could prepare something light.”

Will hung his cloak and took off his boots at the door, not to track in cheese, just in case. “I could eat. Is that sadistic after the cheese thing?”

Hannibal laughed, softly, and opened his mouth to reply when a movement in the darkness of the dining room make him turn his head. Tobias stepped out of the room, hand out to pull Will’s lightsaber out of his belt, and toward himself.

“Tobias-” Hannibal said in a warning tone and lighted his own lightsaber, calmly.

Will reached out to stop the weapon, but was too late. His hands balled into fists at his side instead, stepping up next to his Master. Hannibal was more than capable, he knew, even against a Sith.

“I’ve got no quarrel with your Master,” Tobias hissed, lighting Will’s saber as he charged at him. Hannibal frowned at Tobias and blocked him, engaging in a series of strikes and swings with the sabers that filled the air with the sound of colliding plasma blades and smoke from scorched walls. “Will-” Hannibal instructed, keeping Tobias at bay, “hail Jack!”

Will ran to the wall, the sound echoing through the room as he tried desperately to get a hold of Master Crawford. “C’mon, c’mon…”

Of course, Jack and nearly everyone at the temple were out, looking for the Sith who was fighting Hannibal in the kitchen now. Neatly arranged plates crashed to the floor and broke when Tobias slashed through a cabinet with Will’s saber, and narrowly missed Hannibal’s throat. “You’re all the same, _Jedi_ -” he snarled.

Getting no answer, Will used the Force to reach for a stack of plates and had them thrown one by one at Tobias’ head, creating a diversion if nothing else. Times like this he wished he had a blaster and wasn’t defenseless. When nothing else worked, and the plates were smashed or ducked, he took a breath and lunged right at Tobias, around his middle, taking him down to the floor.

“Will!” Hannibal exclaimed as Tobias slammed himself back against the wall to knock Will off of him, then turned to slash at Will with his saber, hitting him twice in the chest, quickly, before Tobias was yanked backward hard enough with the Force to _crack_ the wall where he landed.

Gasping, Will fell back, sizzling flesh gaping from an open chest wound, ribs and organs exposed. His eyes were wide as he tried to hold it all in, but Will knew in that moment that was it. “Hh-” he tried to speak but fell to his knees instead.

Hannibal seemed to change, in less than a second. His eyes flashed absolutely black, and his shoulders went back. A dark aura filled the room, so strong around Hannibal that it could nearly be seen distorting the air around him. Tobias’s eyes went wide as Hannibal moved toward him, slowly, menacingly, and then went ashy with shock when he saw Hannibal’s eyes lose their human look completely.

“I … I … I -” Tobias stuttered. Hannibal raised his saber in one hand and began to choke Tobias with the other, squeezing with the Force as Tobias begged through a collapsing throat. “I - didn’t - I didn’t- know! I didn’t know!” Hannibal raised Tobias by his throat, nearly to the ceiling and then hit Tobias the same way that Tobias had struck Will with his saber, twice. Blood rushed onto the floor, spattering dark and slick.

Where Tobias’ fell, Will’s blood had already started to pool under his fallen form. Will’s heartbeat slowed, and he felt himself take his last breaths. Charging at Tobias, unarmed, had been a foolish move, something he realized in his last moments only a stupid padawan would have done.

Finally, Hannibal slashed Tobias’s throat with his lightsaber and let him fall to the ground, dead. He sheathed the blade and turned to look at Will, eyes still black as he moved to his side, and picked him up with both arms to carry to the dining table where he laid Will down, gently, as though Will’s body weighed nothing. He loosened Will’s torn shirt around his wounds, and placed his hand on Will’s chest, between the slashes, then closed his eyes.

Searing hot pain coursed through Will, like something grasped him through fire and flame, pulled him through a wreckage in his mind, and back to the world of the living. His body started to regenerate, fixing itself, repairing the damage. As his lungs began to work once more, he gasped, coughing, one hand grasping Hannibal’s arm.

Hannibal found the edges of the damage in Will’s body, the sharp lines of fracture and destruction, and brought them back together, like fragments of a shattered teacup, mending Will with dark energy as the table beneath Will began to shake, and rise off the ground.

Every inch of him was on fire with the mending, burning through his veins. Will’s vision was blurry, barely making out Hannibal’s form, let alone what he saw, or thought he saw. Will groaned, biting his own tongue to stop from screaming, the pain almost worse than the wound itself had been.

The mending built, shaking art off of Hannibal’s walls so that canvases fell to the floor around them from the dark energy focused on repairing Will’s injuries, and then, abruptly, everything stopped. The table fell to the floor again, with a bang, and Hannibal caught Will in his arms, then carried him down the hall like a bride to lay Will in his bed. As he walked, antlers sprouted from Hannibal’s skull, his human skin and hair fading away to reveal smooth, jet-black flesh. Will’s hand reached up, shaking, barely even conscious at that moment, touching his Master’s tainted looking flesh.

“What… what’s happening to me?” It couldn’t be real, he had to be shocked.

Hannibal’s black skin was velvety soft and cold to the touch. He looked at Will as he laid him in the center of his bed. Will was framed by shadows from the wide antlers, perfectly. He touched Will’s face with the palm of a hand that now bore razor-sharp claws at the end of them. His hand, like his face, was cold, as though Hannibal’s body was filled with nighttime and the void of space itself.

“I prefer the universe with you in it, Will,” he said, his voice unchanged. If anything, Hannibal’s accent was thicker now.

“What…” Will’s vision blurred in and out, blinking frantically to get a better look, but his body was giving, demanding rest.

Hannibal’s dark eyes blinked, and he laid a cold hand over Will’s forehead, lovingly. “Sleep.” ***

Will woke much later. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but it was dark, and the flower at his bedside was blooming bright as though he hadn’t left her side in days. Crawling out of bed, Will stumbled, legs failing to work the first time, he pulled himself back up, heading for the fresher first. After managing that, he walked into the hall, only then aware he was in his pajamas, and couldn’t recall how that happened either.

First, water.

Hannibal stood when he heard Will come down the hall, and hurried over to him. Hannibal had his wrist wrapped on one side, and the corner of his lips was freshly cut on one side. “Will?” Hannibal looked like himself again, although a little more tired. The house was in a state of ongoing repair. The lightsaber slashes in the walls were patched over, and the damaged cabinet had been removed.

Will turned to look at his Master, one hand on the wall where it wasn’t damaged. He faintly remembered the fight, remembered being struck down, and then… everything was foggy and strange, like a nightmare. “What happened?” He took in Hannibal’s appearance in the lowlights of the room, casting gauntly shadows over his cheekbones. “You look like hell.”

“Why thank you, Will,” Hannibal said, with a little, injured look on his face, then managed a smile as he walked to Will. “Do you remember the fight with Tobias?”

“I know I should be dead.” Will leaned into the wall with his back, taking deep breaths.

“It is a miracle that you are not,” Hannibal said, and wrapped his undamaged arm around Will to help him to the couch. “You lost a shocking amount of blood, Will.”

Hannibal sat at Will’s side on the couch, paler than usual, dark circles beneath his eyes.

“I must look worse than you,” Will said with a little smirk, sadly, and leaned in against Hannibal, taking in his presence. “I feel like maybe… I dragged you into that unwillingly. He was waiting for me.”

“I came into this world of violent surprises on my own, Will, but I appreciate the company,” Hannibal said with a smile and wrapped his injured arm around Will, very carefully. “I’m grateful that you’re still with us.”

“How long was I out?” Will turned his head to look at Hannibal’s face, for a second seeing dark pools in his eyes instead of his amber irises. Will blinked the image away, ignoring it.

“You have been asleep for two days,” Hannibal said, seriously, with a heavy sigh.

“I hope you’ve been sleeping too.” Will sighed back, touching his wavering hand to Hannibal’s cut lip.

Hannibal closed his eyes at the touch and nodded. “I have, yes, quite deeply,” he assured Will. “My injuries are nothing compared to your own.”

Still unsure how he managed to live, Will couldn’t discount it. He thumbed over Hannibal’s lip and then dropped his hand to his lap. “You helped me though.” He knew that much. Force user could heal, to an extent, depending on ability.

“I did,” Hannibal nodded. “Have you ever heard of Force Transfer?” he asked, a little more color where Will’s hand touched his skin for a moment.

“I know there’s been some mention of it in passing. It’s not something talked about, controversial, isn’t it?” Will asked, meeting Hannibal’s eyes, glad to be back by his side, even if he was only asleep. The whole ordeal had been nerve-wracking, to say the least.

“It is quite controversial. It was developed first by the Sith but has been adapted by some Jedi. I learned from my Master, but until now, I’ve never had to use it. Essentially, I used the Force to heal your injuries at a much-accelerated rate,” Hannibal said, quietly. “I can see, however, why it is not frequently taught. I’m still feeling rather more drained than usual.”

“You used your energy to save me,” Will whispered, mostly to himself, blinking a few tears away, looking at his hands. No one had really cared enough about him to do that, not that he’d been in the position of dying, but that was beyond the point. Hannibal wanted him around.

“I did,” Hannibal agreed and swallowed as he watched Will struggle to react to the revelation. “As it happens, I have not had enough of your terrible attitude, Will.”

Will smiled warily at that, glancing back up at Hannibal through unruly, albeit, dirty curls. “Who would be nasty to you if I died? Hm?”

Hannibal brushed Will’s curls out of his eyes with a smile. “I haven’t the faintest idea, and it is so much trouble to find another padawan,” he sighed. “I decided that I had no choice but to keep you, Will.”

Will sat just a little tiny bit closer, as close as they could get, and snuggled in under Hannibal’s arm, his own over his waist. “Much easier to just bring me back from the brink of death, I guess.”

“Comparatively? Yes,” Hannibal hummed and rested his head over Will’s. “I had to kill Tobias…”

“You were defending me-- _us_.” Will squeezed Hannibal gently, unaware of the extent of his wounds, and wouldn’t want to impede on him further.

“He could not be reasoned with,” Hannibal agreed, and laid his head over Will’s head, both of them beaten, but snuggling in the whole places. “It seems Franklyn was his only victim.”

“Thankfully. Master Crawford is happy?” Will wasn’t too sure what Crawford must have thought of that, or Will having thrown himself at the Sith.

“As happy as Master Crawford can reasonably become, yes,” Hannibal said, against Will’s dirty curls.

“He’s not upset then?” Will curled his fingers into Hannibal’s waist, feeling out the trim muscle there.

“With either of us? Not sufficiently upset that either of us will face a review,” Hannibal assured Will. He sighed again, relaxing when Will touched him like that. Hannibal’s waist was a surprisingly tight band of muscles under his robes that hinted at his real strength, the sort of strength that few guessed he actually had.

“That’s the last thing we need.” Will sighed, content to stay that way, but it was the middle of the night. “If you’re tired, we can go back to bed. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was awake,” Hannibal assured Will, and wrapped both arms around Will. “Have you dreamed during your long slumber?”

“I dreamed of my home world,” Will answered without hesitation. “I was fishing. My dad used to take me fishing before pawning me off here.”

“That sounds idyllic. Do you resemble your father, Will?” Hannibal pulled a thick blanket off of the back of the couch and draped it over them.

“A little bit, from what I recall.” Will snuggled in closer, curling his feet up on to the sofa.

“I do hope he misses you, Will. It’s difficult for me to imagine you were discarded without regret,” Hannibal murmured.

“They’ve never called, they don’t return comm messages. I stopped trying a long time ago.” Will curled one leg slightly over Hannibal’s.

“I’m sorry, Will. They don’t deserve you as a member of their family,” Hannibal murmured, softly, letting them curl up with one another under the blanket. “Would you be more comfortable if we did this in bed?” he asked.

“Would you?” Will smiled and tucked his face against Hannibal’s chest. “We may just fall back to sleep in bed.”

“I wouldn’t object. We both need several days of rest,” Hannibal murmured, his large hand stroking over Will’s back through his shirt.

Will stretched and tugged the blanket off and stood, hand out for Hannibal’s. “Let’s do that then.”

Hannibal accepted Will’s hand but didn’t allow Will to pull him to his feet as he rose on his own, slowly. “My back thanks you, Will. At one point, I was thrown into the counter,” Hannibal said, looking over his shoulder, at the counter in the kitchen, beyond.

Will took a look, nodding, and smiled back at Hannibal. “To bed we go then.” He reached for Hannibal’s hand either way, whether his master took it or not, was of no consequence.

Hannibal took Will’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “To bed,” he agreed, and walked toward his bedroom with Will, his limp barely noticeable.

Hannibal laid down first, slowly, and left room next to him for Will with a smile. “While you were recovering, after the Force Transfer, you seemed to have some sort of nightmare,” Hannibal said, after a moment.

Will crawled in slowly, and covered them up in Hannibal’s blankets and covers, curling up next to his Master, head on his good shoulder. “I… faintly recall. I think I might have been delusional. It’s still foggy.”

“You had lost an alarming amount of blood,” Hannibal agreed, and looked at Will, with his human, amber-brown eyes. “I was frantically worried.”

“I’m grateful you knew how to save me. You should be a healer,” Will whispered, touching over Hannibal’s heart. “I thought your skin had turned black as coal for a moment. I remember, it was so cold.”

Hannibal gazed into Will’s blue eyes and smiled sadly at that. “What a horrific thought,” he murmured, “you must have been terrified.”

“Confused, was more like it.” Will shifted one leg once more over Hannibal’s own, pressed up against his chest, getting as close as possible. “But, blood loss will do that to you.”

“Would you still lean against me for comfort if I looked like a nightmare, Will?” Hannibal asked, amused, and wrapped both arms around Will. He kept his injured arm on top, his hand in Will’s curls. They both needed a bath.

“You’d still be you?” Will asked, as though the questions were a game. “I can’t imagine why it would make a difference.”

“I’d still be myself, yes,” Hannibal said, and pulled the blanket up over Will’s back, doting on him. “I must have been very chilled after the Force Transfer. I admit I’m still feeling a little cooler than usual. I recall that you felt burning hot in my arms after you began to breathe again, nearly incandescent with life.”

“You healed my wounds, the body has to work hard.” Will was still heated to the touch, but he just figured Hannibal was very cool. “I owe you one.”

Hannibal chuckled. “In that case, I’ll have to teach you how to perform Force Transfer … once we’ve recovered from this instance, of course.” He rubbed Will’s back with his uninjured hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of Will’s head.

“That might be wise.” Will was sure he was no healer, but if he had the chance to save Hannibal in a dire situation, he’d rather not be left defenseless. He palmed over Hannibal’s heart.

“Perhaps when we wake,” Hannibal said, adoringly, “we’ll have an introductory lesson.”

Slowly, Will started to drift, engulfed in the feel of Hannibal and being wrapped around him. Comfortable. Comforted. “Sounds good…”

“I thought, for a moment, that you had died,” Hannibal said, after a moment, his voice shakier than it usually was.

“Yet here I am,” Will whispered, softly, squeezing Hannibal gently in his arms.

“Here you are,” Hannibal replied, and felt himself warm a little when Will squeezed him like that. “Here you’ll stay.”

“D’you promise?” Will asked, voice far away and child-like.

“I promise, Will,” Hannibal whispered, and held up his hand to summon Will’s orchid to them, slowly, then settled it on his bedside table. Will had, in Hannibal’s mind, moved into this room, for as long as he wanted to be here.

***

Rising first the next day, sometime in the afternoon, Will fed the flower, happy to see it had been moved, and then set about attempting to make tea and whatever he could muster in the kitchen. It wasn’t much, a couple scrambled eggs and some toasted bread. He plated it on a tray and walked both into the bedroom, setting one bedside for Hannibal. Hannibal was just pulling his shirt off, over his head. His chest was cut and badly bruised under the golden and ash cloud of hair over his muscular frame. He pulled the shirt off, and set it aside, then looked over at Will with an air of surprise, as though he hadn’t expected Will to catch him like this. “You’ve cooked…”

Will stared, without meaning to, and swallowed once. He nodded his head. The bruising was worse than he thought. Hannibal had taken quite a beating for him. “Yeah. The best I could.”

“It smells edible,” Hannibal said with a little smile, and moved back into bed, sitting up against the headboard. He had moved, his back was visible for a moment, revealing a long, black bruise where he’d hit the counter with extreme force at some point. “I’m willing to inspect the result of your work, Padawan,” Hannibal said, teasing a little.

Will shrugged and crawled into bed with Hannibal and grabbed his own tray. The Eggs were a little bland, a bit grey, but they weren’t bad, by any means. “I’ve only cooked with you, never on my own.” He touched Hannibal’s arm once, glad he was a little warmer. “Thank you, again, for… saving me.”

Hannibal looked over at Will, besotted, and felt the touch to his bare arm glow with heat. “I’ve grown far too used to a living forest around my mind palace, Will. I prefer the world with you in it, alive.”

“You said that. I know. I’m still grateful. I don’t know that anyone else would have done that to that extent.” Will forked at the floppy looking eggs with a sigh, and then tried them. Not terrible.

Hannibal tried his own eggs and leaned against Will, gently. “You’re welcome, Will,” Hannibal said, sincerely, and leaned their heads together for a moment. “I feel the need to confess,” he paused, looking into Will’s eyes, “my saving you was a deeply selfish act. I did not want to confront the enormity of missing you.”

Will smiled at Hannibal gently, up close like this. “I think we both know our bond would be too much to lose. No one but us has to know why or how.”

“I think in that regard, our bond makes us better warriors,” Hannibal said, quietly.

“I think so.” Will looked back to his food and ate the rest of his meal, not the best, but for his first try, he wasn’t going to complain.

“Although I think, perhaps, a cooking lesson is in order,” Hannibal teased softly, eating another mouthful of the eggs that actually were not terrible.

“I’m still learning. I could have waited for you.” Will nudged Hannibal gently with his shoulder, teasing.

“No, I am touched that you prepared this for me,” Hannibal said, honestly, and nuzzled Will’s temple. “It is an admirable first attempt, Will.”

“I’ll get better.” Will set his tray aside and took his tea off to sip on that. “I have a good Master and teacher in a lot of things.

“We could begin today. Cooking is not as strenuous an activity as Force Transfer,” Hannibal said, after another bite of food.

“Thank goodness. I don’t think either of us is up for more than pulling something from the counter with the force,” Will said with a teasing smirk. “Especially you.”

Hannibal smiled sheepishly at that and nodded that he had to agree as he chewed and swallowed his food. “I believe we’ve both earned some rest.” He looked at Will’s plate, “you must have been famished.”

“Two days without food, a lot of sleep, and healing. I might have been.” Will ducked his head with a shrug.

“Healing makes demands on the body, accelerated healing makes an accelerated demand,” Hannibal said, and finally put his plate aside, finished. “Thank you, Will.”

“We can make the next meal together.” Will smiled proudly that Hannibal had eaten what he made, with no complaints.

“That sounds wonderful,” Hannibal agreed, as he leaned against Will again, a little more heavily. His bare arm wrapped around Will’s back, with a little pain that Hannibal considered a fair cost for the feeling of cozy intimacy it provided.

“Don’t exert yourself, please,” Will insisted, thinking Hannibal had it far worse than he did right now. Will hadn’t even really checked himself over. He ached, but aches weren’t much to him.

Will’s injuries had initially been much more severe than what Hannibal was suffering from, but Will had been healed, most of the hard work of recovering and the pain had been accelerated just after Tobias had attempted to murder him. Hannibal’s injuries were still freshly painted across his skin.

Will got up and gathered the dirty dishes and then took them to the kitchen to wash and set aside. Once done, about ten minutes later, he returned with a kettle of more tea to refill their cups and then disappeared again. He came back and crawled into bed, sitting much closer to Hannibal this time.

Hannibal curled close to Will once he returned, craving physical nearness as much as he craved being mentally close to Will. “This is the most pleasant injury I’ve ever experienced,” Hannibal said, wryly.

“Is it?” Will asked as he reached out a palm to touched one of Hannibal’s bruises on his torso, the first skin to skin contact that wasn’t just their hands or Hannibal healing him.

Hannibal held his breath when Will touched him, and closed his eyes, the warmth of Will’s hand seeping through the bruise, into his skin. It felt like coming out of the cold, and laying in front of a roaring fire. “Yes,” he whispered, as he began to breathe again, dizzied by the sensation.

“I wish you weren’t hurt or in pain. Or, drained because of me.” Will curled a little into Hannibal, shifting a little under his shoulder, arm going under his lower back against the bed.

“I have no regrets, Will,” Hannibal whispered and managed to wrap his long, bare arm around Will’s shoulder, holding him where he was. “I will recover. I’m more resilient than the streaks of silver in my hair would suggest.”

“Silver? You’re not that old,” Will insisted, tilting his head up to meet Hannibal’s eyes, a feat much easier with his Master than anyone else.

Hannibal ducked his head to show Will his hair. It was loose now, not carefully tied back at the nape of his neck. Sure enough, a few grey strands sparkled among his toffee-colored hair. “I’m older than you think, Will,” Hannibal chuckled, softly, as though that was a joke that only he really understood.

Will trailed his hand from Hannibal’s bruised ribs to his hair, touching, as if testing the strength and feeling the silvery strands. Will didn’t care one way or another, Jedi were known to withstand the standard trials of time. “I think… it’s charming and regal.”

Hannibal felt his face flush a little at the compliment and knew that the feeling of Will’s hand in his hair was one he could easily become addicted to. “Regal?”

“Like…” Will smiled, squinting a little. “I can’t explain. It adds character to you that’s got that regal air.”

“I did grow up in a castle” Hannibal noted, as he memorized the way Will’s eyes looked when he squinted.

“You did. Maybe that’s it. The palace I’ve been in, in your mind, laying little ideas in my head.” Will chuckled, and touched his own chest, where it ached even now like it’d been splinted back together.

“More pain?” Hannibal asked, replacing Will’s hand with his own.

“Side effects, I guess. It’s not bad.” Will pressed his hand over Hannibal’s thigh.

The limits of being only friends were softening every day, growing into something new that built on friendship. Hannibal had taken many lovers in his lifetime and found himself incredulous that so little with Will could make his heart race. “Those will pass, with time. Have you seen your injuries?”

“No. I need to bathe at some point, so I’m sure I will.” Will’s smile softened and he pain eased. He wrapped his arm around Hannibal again, only too aware that ‘friends’ did not share beds like this, or wore intimacy as closely as they did. And yet, here they were. “Can you feel them?” Hannibal asked, softly, doing his best to prepare Will for what to expect. It was likely that Will had no idea how severe the damage had been from the mild pain he felt now. Scars remained that would tell him the story when they were seen.

“The… injuries?” Will hadn’t wanted to, but moved a hand to his chest, feeling the raised up flesh there under his pajamas. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, likely raw and angry looking.

“You likely do not recall, Will, but Tobias attacked you, with your own lightsaber. He wounded you twice, in the chest, before I could pull him back,” Hannibal said, apologetically.

Will knew he’d been attacked, badly enough to almost die, but the how was rough and shaky in his memory. He palmed over the raised spots, but and bulky under the fabric, frowning. “You saved me though. These… these are just a reminder.”

“They are a reminder that the past is real, that you survived,” Hannibal assured Will, and laid one hand over Will’s, comforting him. “Tobias did not survive his wounds.”

After slaughtering Tobias and healing Will, Hannibal had to make Tobias’s death look as though he had lost a long, and fair fight: sith against Jedi master, not sith against the creature that lived under Hannibal’s person suit. Hannibal had injured himself, quite extensively, and left convincing evidence throughout the house of an equally matched lightsaber battle that had stretched on for much longer than it really had. Jack and the others had believed it, wholeheartedly, once Hannibal had been able to resume his human form, and called them for ‘help’.

“I’m not with grief on that one,” Will sighed, so completely unaware of much other than what Hannibal had mentioned. “It was foolish to have gone to see him, wasn’t it?”

“Tobias gave us valuable information,” Hannibal reasoned. “I would suggest it was unwise to launch yourself at him, unarmed.”

A flush spread through Will’s cheeks and he ducked his head, resting it on Hannibal’s shoulder. “I thought... No, you’re right. It was stupid.”

“What did you think, Will?” Hannibal asked, curiously.

“I guess I thought I was helping, but I see how that I only made things worse.” Will took a deep breath, taking in the ache of his chest when he did, like a stinging reminder of his irresponsibility.

“You are learning,” Hannibal said, softly, and touched Will’s head of curls, strumming his long fingers through it. “Many would not have had your bravery.”

“If bravery makes me do stupid things, it’s not wise to use it,” Will quipped with a sad tone. They had been doing so well, too, showing the council what Will could do.

“No one is born with wisdom, Will. It must be earned at great cost. Master Yoda, I am certain, was a headstrong padawan once,” Hannibal said, and touched Will’s face. “You wanted to help me.”

“I failed to.” Will sighed, sad, big blue eyes gazing up at Hannibal with the touch to his face.

“I can count on one hand and still have plenty of unused fingers the number of people who have leapt into peril in an attempt to spare me harm,” Hannibal said, honestly. “As we said earlier, morality is a matter of intent. Your intent was to save me, Will.”

“I didn’t want to live without you,” Will agreed, nodding his head. “I will try not to be so hasty in my choices, however, if there is a next time. I’ll try to find another way other than myself to save you.”

“As I said, you will learn,” Hannibal murmured, and kissed Will’s forehead, softly. “For the moment, I am proud of your attempt.”

Decidedly, Will would let it be, despite his empathy kicking and telling him to feel his worst, that Hannibal had done so much for him because he made a big mistake. “Okay…”

“Shall we go to the kitchen or would you like a bath, first?” Hannibal asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about the kitchen,” Will insisted but knew they should probably do something with their day. “I cleaned up everything. I should probably bathe though. I can’t possibly smell great.”

“You smell like a man who has been asleep for two days,” Hannibal smiled, and leaned closer, smelling Will’s throat. He could smell something under his skin, something with a feverish sweetness that was growing in Will, even if the padawan was yet unaware of it. “Like blood, heavy slumber, and a little like eggs.”

Will laughed, tilting his head to the side with a swallow. “That can't be a good combination…”

“Shall I run the bath for you?” Hannibal asked, quite tactfully not disputing Will’s observation. “I have heard that to animals, there are no bad smells, only interesting smells.”

“Are we animals?” Will crawled out of bed to stretch, looking over at Hannibal. “I can manage.”

“Perhaps I’m more animal than I am man,” Hannibal said, with a charming smile, and let himself enjoy the sight of Will crawling out of his bed.

Will laughed, gleeful even in his sore state. “In that case should I refrain from showering?”

“I think a shower may help you feel better, and begin your day without the residue of our traumatic evening still clinging to your skin,” Hannibal said, thoughtfully.

“I was kidding.” Will stuck his tongue playfully, tugging his shirt over his head as he headed out the door and down the hall to the bathroom for a long, and overdue shower.

Hannibal’s eyes were glued to the sight of Will as he stripped his shirt off, and he felt his jaw drop enough to part his lips as Will sauntered out of the room. It was enough to make Hannibal’s heart race, and blood rush through his veins until he felt dizzy.

Twenty minutes later, Will was out of the shower and in a clean tunic, one less set available now, unfortunately. Hair wet and floppy, he walked through the destroyed kitchen and dining room.

Hannibal was waiting in the kitchen, his hair tied back immaculately. He wore a white shirt and dark pants, unlike Jedi robes, and had an apron on over both. “Feeling better, Will?”

“Yes.” Will wandered over, no socks or shoes on his feet and watched Hannibal a moment before walking closer. “What are you making?”

“Nothing, quite yet. I thought we could make something together,” Hannibal said, and removed a slab of meat from the fridge, unwrapping it from it’s crisp brown, paper wrapper.

“Oh. Okay.” Will look elated to be involved in the preparation of their meal more so than usual. He washed his hands, even if they were clean, and stood close.

“Have you ever had Tralandon goulash?” Hannibal asked as he watched watch flow over Will’s hands, between his fingers.

“I’ve heard of Tralandon, what is…goulash?” Will grimaced a little at sounding it out. “I think you’ll like it,” Hannibal said as he handed Will a knife, thoughtfully. “It’s a peasant dish with meat and vegetables. It’s rather like a stew but the spices are smokey and more complex.”

“Oh.” Will nodded and took the knife. “What can I do?”

“First, we’ll brown the meat, but first, I need you to slice it into cubes,” Hannibal said, admiring Will with the knife in his hand. “You look quite natural.”

“Remembering how you taught me before how to do this,” Will commented, and took the meat, slicing it first one way.

“That seems so long ago,” Hannibal laughed, a little lost in watching Will’s hands as he worked. “The cubes should ideally be about this size-” Hannibal said, as he stood behind Will and showed him what to do.

Will rounded his shoulders back when Hannibal stood behind him, his back fitting perfectly against Hannibal’s chest as their hands worked together to cut the meat into perfect cubes-- not too small. Hannibal slid his hands up to Will’s wrists as Will worked, and then his shoulders. He knew he could work on other elements of the meal, but it was important that Will perform every step himself. “Good, as in all things, Will, you learn quickly.”

Will smiled over his shoulder at Hannibal, and then continued to chop until all the meat was in tiny perfect cubes. “Into the pan?”

“Not quite yet. First, all of the fat that you trimmed off when you were dicing the meat will go into the pan with the red spice. We are going to brown the spice, but not burn it. Burning this particular spice will make it extremely bitter,” Hannibal said.

“And we don’t want that.” Will moved the fat into the pan first, as instructed.

“Unless you enjoy bitter food,” Hannibal said and picked up his own knife to show Will how to chop some of a white, almost iridescent root. “This is Mandalorian onion, we want a little of this in with the lard. Not too much, it’s very pungent.”

Will nodded, and then took the knife for cutting the root from Hannibal to cut a few more and tossed those in as well. “What else?”

“To prevent the spice from burning, it’s important to stir the contents of your pan frequently. However, the pan is not yet warm enough to risk burning the spice, so now is the ideal time to dice and chop the rest of the vegetables,” Hannibal said, as he laid a variety of colorful vegetables on the counter and washed their knives. “What do you recall eating as a child before you came to the temple, Will?”

“Fish and grains mostly,” Will said, setting about helping Hannibal with the peppers he set out, cutting the tops first and discarding the seeds.

“Do you miss it? Simpler dishes?” Hannibal asked, making a mental note. Will’s appetite would likely flourish, soon.

“I know I liked fish. I haven’t had it for a while, so I can’t say if I miss it much.” He chopped the peppers into chunks and pushed them the side. He took the carrot and peeled it first and then began to chop that, too.

Hannibal watched Will work, and busied himself with the pan, moving the contents slowly so that everything cooked evenly. The air began to fill with a smoky, spicy aroma. “Perhaps we’ll try some at some point. I must confess that I don’t find fish as inspiring as other varieties of meat.”

“It’s a pretty…” Will made a face to find the right word, “boring meat. It’s not very exciting, you’re right. Too conventional for you.” He smiled and pushed the carrots toward Hannibal and moved on to the next, tomatoes and potatoes.

“Do you already know my tastes, Will?” Hannibal asked, over his shoulder, still stirring the contents of the pan slowly, patiently.

Will put both into the pan. That was the last of it. “I have an idea.”

“I’m curious to hear what you think my tastes are,” Hannibal said, with a smirk over his shoulder and then sighed when Will threw the vegetables into the pan. “The meat was next to go into the pan, Will.”

“Sorry!” Will laughed, but frowned, scooting the meat over to Hannibal gently. “I think your tastes are refined and you think fish is beneath you.”

“Beneath me?” Hannibal asked, and raised an eyebrow at Will as he added the meat, then arranged the meat so that it was at least closer to the bottom of the pan than the vegetables.

“It’s not as refined as you are.” Will canted his head at Hannibal and tossed in a left-behind potato. “You said so yourself that fish was simple.”

“Relatively, yes. I suppose with the right preparation, it can be a satisfying meal but, you are right. It is not to my taste,” Hannibal said, a touch enigmatically.

Will shrugged. “Then it’s beneath you, so to speak.” It didn’t bother Will, he hadn’t had fish in years.

“Jedi Academy rations are beneath me,” Hannibal said, and tried to open a bottle of wine, with difficulty.

Will held out his hand for the key and bottle. “Those should be beneath everyone.”

Hannibal handed them over, with a little sigh, but nodded. “So they should,” he said and went back to the pan to stir the vegetables and meat, and then covered the pan with a lid.

Will opened the bottle expertly, with some effort, and then poured them both a glass. He set them down to open a little more, as he was learning. “What else don’t you like?”

“I dislike any dish that is prepared without thought, arranged without dignity,” Hannibal said. “I am not fond of any meat cooked until it is tough, and above all, dull company can ruin _any_ meal.”

Going quiet Will spread his hands. “Was breakfast horrible? I know it didn’t look pretty…”

Hannibal smiled at Will, charmed. “It was far from horrible, Will, and the company was outstanding.” He turned from the pan, cupped Will’s face between his palms, and kissed his cheek.

A heat roiling through Will’s belly at that, his body stilling. “I’ll still try a little harder.” If Hannibal had standards, Will wanted to meet them, not be mediocre enough to be replaced.

“This morning was by far my favorite breakfast, Will,” he said, honestly. The eggs had been a little rubbery, but Will had prepared them, with care. “If I was given the chance to erase my memory of our breakfast together in exchange for brunch prepared by five-star chefs from a resort on Canto Bight, I would refuse.”

“You would?” Will let out a breath. He was learning and planned to keep doing so with Hannibal in every aspect. He touched Hannibal’s forearms, the aroma of the stew filling the air between them.

“I would,” Hannibal agreed, and let their faces brush for a moment, nuzzling one another where they stood in the kitchen. Hannibal crystallized this moment, as he had so many others with Will, and stored it in a new room in his mind palace, to be associated with the smell of this dish.

“Glad to hear it. I don’t think my eggs will get much better,” Will sassed with a smirk, gazing at Hannibal as their noses bumped, sending shocks down his spine.

“I am willing to take that risk,” Hannibal said, adoringly, able to feel the same shocks run down his own spine.

The moment Will’s eyes fluttered closed and he thought about inching forward, he smelled something start to burn. He let out a little sigh, pulling back, to pick up the spatula to push the food around the pot a little.

Hannibal let out a breath that he’d held, and swallowed when he felt Will pull away to keep the food from burning. He’d nearly been certain that Will was about to kiss him, this time. Just the thought of Will kissing him was enough to make his heart pound hard, as though he’d run a great distance.

He turned and looked at the meal over Will’s shoulder. “You saved our meal, Will. Many thanks.”

Will canted his head to the side a little, stretching is neck to let Hannibal see it. He turned down the heat. “Just barely.” He’d wanted to kiss Hannibal, but the thought of just being friends seared in his mind, wondering if it would be wholly inappropriate.

Hannibal took another breath from the skin of Will’s throat, with his eyes closed, and laid a large hand on his back. “Your sense of smell must be nearly as developed as mine.”

“I’m learning.” Will stirred a little longer and then let simmer, turning his face to look at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye. “The Force helps a little with that.”

“The force alerted you that our dinner was burning?” Hannibal asked, coyly, and sipped his wine now that his pulse has returned to normal. Merely being around Will was exhilarating, thrilling in ways that Hannibal had never imagined another person could be … at least alive.

“It can enhance one’s senses.” Will smiled slyly and then set the lid over the top. “What are we putting with this?” He took up his own glass and tasted the wine, slowly.

“I thought perhaps a loaf of fresh bread,” Hannibal mused as the goulash simmered in the large pan, “and some greens to begin the meal.”

“Do we have fresh bread?” Will had been asleep, he wasn’t sure what Hannibal had gone out to get without him. He was so used to doing things with him that having them done not together was strange. “I can get the greens together.”

“We can make some without too much difficulty while the goulash simmers,” Hannibal said. “I trust you’ve never made bread before, Will? It’s simple enough.”

Will shrugged. “I can’t say I have. I’d like to learn though.”

Hannibal turned to his pantry and pulled out a few bags of ingredients, which made his forearms and back muscles flex. “The ingredients are simple enough. Waiting for the dough to rise, and kneading the dough properly are the most difficult steps. However, impatience is the enemy of perfection.” Hannibal mused on that as he thought of their near-kiss earlier, and measured ingredients into a large bowl, able to work from memory.

“I can be patient.” He could be when he wanted to be. Will watched, always amazed at the things Hannibal knew by heart.

“It is easier to be patient when one is certain that the finished product will be worth their wait,” Hannibal said, working the ingredients together with practiced hands as they spoke. Flour worked its way into his hair, into the tiny lines on his strong hands, and up his bandaged forearms.

Will reached and brushed the flour from Hannibal’s hair, with a small smile. “Will it be worth our wait?” He gazed at Hannibal, knowingly.

Hannibal’s cut lip quirked upward in acknowledgment of the layers of their conversation. “Without a doubt in my mind, our finished product will be worth the wait.”

“Good.” Will stood closer, watching. “I can help if your injured arm hurts.”

Hannibal stepped back, gratefully, and gestured for Will to step in. “I prefer to use my hands to mix the dough together, but it may have been ambitious of my to attempt it today,” he said, nodding to his bandaged left wrist.

“The very least I could do,” Will insisted as he stepped in place and rolled of his sleeves. He got in and started to work the ingredients together, fingers getting sticky with the dough.

“Perhaps if you had not become a Jedi, you might have become some particularly surly baker,” Hannibal teased.

“Surly?” Will chuckled, kneading the dough in the bowl. “I’d be a mechanic, I think.”

“Surly mechanic, in that case,” Hannibal chuckled. “I think you would excel in any profession in which you had to use your hands.”

“There aren’t many professions that don’t use your hands, _Master_ ,” Will said with a little smirk over at Hannibal.

Hannibal sighed and handed Will a little flour. “Thankfully I have you to remind me of such practical matters,” he said dryly. “We’ll need to knead the dough. Begin with spreading flour on the counter to ensure the dough does not stick to the counter.”

Will raised his brows at Hannibal and spread the flour out on the counter and then plopped the dough down. “Someone has to be here to remind you. That’s why you saved me, wasn’t it?”

“One of many,” Hannibal said, and reached around Will to guide his hands. “To knead the dough, first, coat the dough with flour, like so. Then, press the dough down and out,” Hannibal said, his voice a rumble in his chest, which pressed against Will’s back.

Breathing in deep, Will following Hannibal’s instruction and his hands, happy to have the closeness together after days apart, which he felt like a sad echo inside himself when he had awoken. “Do a lot of people do this and we never hear about it? Bread can bought fresh at the markets.”

“I think it’s more common than we may believe, particularly away from Coruscant,” Hannibal said, against Will’s ear, and thought of the way Will’s smooth chest and back had looked when he’d removed his shirt. “Now, stretch the bread out in front of you, flat. Use the heels of your hands…”

Digging his palms into the bread, pushing it out, stretching it a little, Will resisted the urge to shiver, ignoring the pangs of need in his chest to have Hannibal completely engulf him with the entirety of his body. “Less refined communities?”

“Some of the galaxy’s most refined and celebrated dishes began in less refined communities. I would argue that the art of bread making is at its best on remote planets,” Hannibal said, softly, enjoying the tension between them as he helped Will knead the dough, and rested his injured hand against Will’s hip.

The longer it built, the more Will squirmed internally. He’d never even been close to another being, physically or mentally, and having both his master was absolutely exhilarating to senses he’s never known existed before now. “People who still do things the old way, by hand, rather than machine.”

“I prefer my food prepared by hand with careful attention to the steps of the process and quality,” Hannibal said. “There is a certain sensuality to being involved in cooking that we cheat ourselves of when we trust the task to droids.” Hannibal almost purred. “Now, fold the top of the dough over, toward the bottom, and knead them together.”

Will hummed his answer, rumbling through his chest, and then folded the bread over with a little more flour, and kneaded it together into a big lump. “I agree. I’ve enjoyed my meals more since coming here.”

“They have personality,” Hannibal said, with a smirk in his voice. He could feel Will’s voice through the points where their bodies were pressed together. “Now fold the dough lengthwise, knead the two halves together.”

Will did, swallowing hard, the heat of his body rising in temperature the longer they stayed this closely pressed together. “Like that?”

“Perfect,” Hannibal whispered, and curled himself a little more tightly around Will’s body, able to feel Will’s back muscles with his own body, his warmth.

Will worked the dough over and over, until it was perfectly elastic and pliable, but was in no rush to move from Hannibal’s grip, finding the comfort of his warmth enticing.

Hannibal rested his cheek against Will’s neck, inhaling the scent of his neck as he felt Will work against him. “Keep folding and kneading until the dough becomes smooth, almost silky.”

“More than it is?” Will asked, not too sure since he’d never done this before. He continued to fold and knead, over and over.

“More than it is, you’ll see,” Hannibal purred, “keep working it.”

Will pressed into the counter with the dough, working it in with all his all his strength. Every muscle in his back and arms worked, more to him than met the eye under his tunic and robes. “I hope this tastes good…”

Hannibal nearly had Will pinned there with the weight of his body, one hand on Will’s hip as they moved together. “It will, you’ll enjoy it more now that you’ve had to work for it, and wait.”

Will flushed at the words, swallowing down hard, his whole body moving into the kneading of the dough, against Hannibal from behind. “That’s true…”

Hannibal’s body was reacting to Will’s, but Will didn’t seem to mind. He let his hand move to Will’s stomach, resting there gently at the core of Will’s heat. “Nearly done.”

Shuddering from that touch alone, Will worked the dough a few more times, moving from heel to toe to get all his strength into it, trying to ignore the effects Hannibal had on him. “Done.”

“Good,” Hannibal whispered, checking the texture of the dough with his fingers. “Now, shape the dough into a ball,” he said, and used both hands to demonstrate, which made the muscles of his body work against Will’s.

Will shaped it, concentrating on just the dough and not the way he wanted to feel Hannibal’s body pressed against his own without their clothes between them. He shaped it, rounded it, and then brushed off his hands. “Now,” Hannibal said and turned to the cabinets to bring down a large copper bowl and a bottle of expensive-looking oil. “Wash the dough from your hands.”

With a swallow, Will moved to the sink and thoroughly washed his hands, and then returned to Hannibal’s side, tilting his head curiously. “Alright.”

Hannibal did the same, and shut off the water, then dried his hands and handed Will the towel before he beckoned Will over to the large bowl. “The bread needs to rise at this point, and to do that, we must oil a bowl.”

“Do I just put oil in the bowl and spread it around?” Will asked, standing close, hands dry now.

“Oil your hands first,” Hannibal instructed, and stood behind Will, demonstrating as he poured the clear, golden oil on his own hands, and rubbed it into his skin until his hands were slick and glistening.

Following suit, Will oiled up his hands, slowly, making sure to get between his fingers so the dough would not stick. “Complicated.”

“Not once you become accustomed to the steps, like any dance,” Hannibal said, and pulled the bowl closer to Will, guiding his hands to it. “Run your oiled hands just around the inside of the rim, and work your way down to make sure you spread the oil everywhere.”

Will spread the oil around the lip and then down into the bowl, coating it with a little more oil from the bottle, and continued to make sure it was well lubricated. Heat bloomed through his core as Will kept his head down.

Hannibal breathed against the back of Will’s neck, just under the point where his soft curls ended, and let his hand slip in, against Will’s, fingers intertwining and slipping together in the oil. “Take your time,” he encouraged.

Was it wholly necessary to take his time? Will didn’t know or care, as their fingers slipped together against the bowl, oddly erotic for how simply domestic the task. “I’m not in a rush.”

“Any unoiled surface will adhere to the dough and destroy it’s smooth shape,” Hannibal said, softly, explaining one of the reasons why he was so careful to draw their task out for as long as he could. “The oil we use will have a subtle influence on the taste of the bread, as well.”

“Make it shiny,” Will commented, his slightly calloused hands rubbing against Hannibal’s smoothly with the oil. He bit his bottom lip with seemingly high concentration.

“Slick,” Hannibal sighed into Will’s ear, as their hands brushed. They were breathing together now, in unison, and Hannibal could _smell_ Will’s body reacting to the tension between them, the touches and innuendo, the realization of how good oil made skin against skin feel.

Swallowing down the hard lump in his throat, Will managed a nod, slipping fingers and palms against Hannibal’s, in the empty bowl. “Dough?”

“Yes,” Hannibal agreed, and reached for the ball of dough, then moved it carefully into the oiled bowl, settling it inside. “You did well, the dough is smooth, with a supple elasticity. Perfect, Will.” With that, Hannibal stepped back to admire Will’s flustered state, and the blush across his pretty face, and washed his hands cooly.

Once Hannibal finished, Will washed his as well and wiped them off, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders to release some of the tension. “I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

“Possibly even better,” Hannibal said, knowingly, and took a clean kitchen towel from a drawer, then laid it over the bowl. “It will require an hour or two for rising,” Hannibal said, and moved to stir the goulash again. He was surprised, if he were to be honest with himself, at how difficult it was to move on from being that close to Will. Hannibal was a master at compartmentalizing his experiences. Being close to Will, in that way, spilled over the neat box in which Hannibal attempted to keep it.

“The meal will be fine simmering for that long?” Will asked, leaning over to sniff the stew like stuff in the pan. He was still flushed with heat, now more than ever aware of his attraction to his master.

“The longer the goulash simmers, the better it will taste,” Hannibal said, and handed Will his glass of wine after taking a swallow of his own.

Will took up his glass once more and sipped on it, the flavor was much richer now, robust and almost musky. He wondered if that had anything to do with his own feelings at the present. “So, while we wait for our dough to rise and soup to simmer…”

“That is up to you, today, Will,” Hannibal said after a moment’s consideration. “With what would you like to occupy our time while we wait?”

The boy shrugged his slim, but strong, shoulders and took another sip. They had a while left. He supposed he should check on his plant, and consider a name for her. Or Maybe help clean up the mess of the living room and dining room. “Hmn.”

“I could attempt to make progress on your portrait while you research,” Hannibal mused, after pouring himself more wine, and offered some to Will.

“There is still that.” Will took his glass of wine into the part of the living room that was cleared up, most of it clean now as it looked like Hannibal had some help. He sat down and found his books tucked away.

Hannibal followed with his sketchbook and the sharp piece of charcoal he used, which in his hand looked like a long, black claw as he sat down next to Will. “As you were, Will,” he said, with a subtle smirk.

“Do I need to get into the exact position?” Will asked, tucking his legs up under himself and crossing the, book in his lap.

“You are nearly there, turn your head just a little more toward me,” Hannibal said, and reached out to tilt Will’s head, gently. “Perfection.”

Will licked his bottom lip and then bit it thoughtfully as he watched Hannibal, turning himself just a little more, so he could read and ‘model’ at the same time. “Good?”

“Seeking praise, Will?” Hannibal asked, obviously teasing his gorgeous student and model as he began to sketch, again.

“No!” Will flushed to his ears, ducking his head ever so slightly to cover the crimson tips.

“If you must know, you are exquisite,” Hannibal assured Will, charmed by his reaction to the implication that he enjoyed praise for his outstanding good looks. Most people would, after all.

Will shook his head, and flipped through pages instead. “It’s not very becoming of a Jedi to ask for that, is it?”

“Do you think a Jedi should be indifferent to the praise of those close to him? Most reasonable beings crave it,” Hannibal pointed out, filling in tiny lines in Will’s curls.

“I don’t think it’s something they’re supposed to ask for,” Will replied, reading over a few pages, but honestly he was mostly just looking at them, not reading them. Hannibal had thoroughly distracted him.

“Was that what you were asking, Will?” Hannibal asked, able to tell that Will’s eyes were reading the same sentence over and over again.

“It’s what I was talking about. I wasn’t asking for praise. I was asking if my position was okay, to your liking,” Will murmured, utterly flustered.

“Your position is to my liking,” Hannibal assured Will, coyly, and blended the charcoal with the tip of his finger under Will’s cheek. “As is everything else.”

“Okay.” Will took a deep breath and concentrated on reading, not what Hannibal was doing, or feeling, or trying to read him.

Hannibal couldn’t resist playing with Will a little, gently. “Do you _enjoy_ the feeling of knowing I find you attractive, Will?”

“I… I don’t know.” Will shifted his jaw, chancing a peek up at Hannibal.

“I can say without exaggeration that you are by far, the most attractive man I’ve ever met,” Hannibal said, calmly, and watched Will’s expression.

“I find that hard to believe,” Will whispered, licking his lips.

“Why?” Hannibal asked, simply. The question dangled in the air, like a fish hook.

“I don't see myself like that,” Will sighed, shrugging. “It's hard to see, I guess. I'm glad you see it.”

“I am very interested in how you do see yourself, Will,” Hannibal said, honestly. “You are objectively, stunning, well above the average person in both terms of facial symmetry and elegance of feature.”

Will laughed. “I… feel less than normal. Unusual and unappealing.”

“Could you show me, in our minds?” Hannibal asked, as he set the sketch down for a moment. “It’s not often two people can share their subjective interpretations of reality, but we can.”

It was a feeling and notion Will only kept to himself. “I'd rather not. I want you to keep seeing me as you do.”

“You fear that what I see is a pleasing facade, and if you show me the ugliness that lives beneath, I will only see your ugliness and then, I will abandon you?” Hannibal said after a moment. He could not help but be struck with the realization that if this were true, they shared the same worry. Of course even their fears were mirrored images, able to reflect and reflect into eternity.

“I am not like most Jedi in training. I have no special talent beyond what you see. I am not desirable.” Will sighed and set the book down. “You finally see more in me. I don't want that to change.”

“No special talent?” Hannibal asked, with a touch of incredulity. “You mean, of course, no special talent beyond that which leads Master Crawford and the rest of the Jedi Council to seek your opinion on matters of life and death?”

“They didn’t want it before you,” Wil huffed. “So clearly, no they didn’t. And don’t.”

“It is strange, isn’t it, how two people can view the same person in such diametrically opposed ways? I would argue, instead, that you carry a dialectic view of yourself, Will. You do not have to renounce the belief that you are plain, or useless. I am sure in some respect that believing you are plain and unremarkable serves you, in some capacity. However, also accept that in some ways, to some people, you are a wonder. Both can be true, can’t they?” Hannibal asked.

“I can believe you believe that,” Will insisted, reaching for his glass of wine, to hide behind.

Hannibal admired Will’s eyes, the slope of his upper and lower lid, the sweep of heavy, dark eyelashes that nearly seemed to be mocking Will with their girlish flare, and of course, the most remarkable irises Hannibal knew he would ever see. “It is astounding to know that someone with eyes like yours could possibly fail to see himself clearly with them.”

“Then you’ve never known someone like me,” Will whispered, canting his head as he set his wine back down. “I’ve only ever been told how _un_ remarkable I am.”

“By whom?” Hannibal asked, with one elegant, faint eyebrow raised a quarter of an inch.

“By every other Master I’ve had.” Will huffed out a breath, not feeling completely himself now, like he had to hide away once more.

“Did they make an explicit judgement, or did you read their disapproval with your gift?” Hannibal asked, and watched as Will’s hackles raised. His lovely boy became feral again at the slightest provocation.

“Both.” Will’s brows furrowed slightly. Talking about himself was never an easy thing, and talking what other thought? Even more so.

Hannibal closed his sketch book, and moved closer to Will after he set the sharp bit of charcoal down. Hannibal’s fingers on his right hand had black on them. For a moment, it looked like his real flesh, peering through at his fingertips. “They were wrong,” Hannibal said, very simply, but with gravitas that seemed to make the air in the room go still.

“Your opinion is all that matters,” Will insisted, realizing that as suddenly as it hit him, hard in the chest. “Nothing they think of me is important anymore. They never accepted me the way you do.”

“More importantly,” Hannibal said, as he leaned forward, and looked deep into the blacks of Will’s eyes, into the part of Will’s eyes that matched his own, real, nightmarish eyes behind the film of humanity that floated over them. “They never understood you as well as I do, Will. I doubt they knew you beyond your name, your rank as Padawan, your lovely face that may have made them uncomfortable with a longing they did not accept, and your gifts that far outstripped their own. Their knowledge of you was shallow, at best. What meaning can one attach to rejection without deep understanding? Barely any at all. They rejected you, certainly, as they may have discarded a closed chest without looking for the treasure within.”

Will smiled, somberly, and palmed his hands over his knees, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s as their beats within seemed to grasp hold of one another, latching on. “I don’t know why I take their opinions so… highly. I shouldn’t.”

“You looked to them, as a child, to replace your parents. To have been rejected by your parents, and then rejected again by those you are told will supercede their presence is devastating, Will. You must have felt as though you were quite literally unacceptable,” Hannibal said. His own ability to understand the emotions of others was far more cognitive than Will’s fluid empathy, but it was sound, and more often than not, precise.

“Wasn’t I? Until now? No one wanted me. You hadn’t heard of me until recently.” Will dropped his eyes, shoulders slumped.

Hannibal touched Will’s face with one hand, and then nuzzled their faces together as he pulled Will into his arms, accepting him in every possible way. They ended up a tangle of limbs on the couch, and Hannibal buried one hand in Will’s curls as he held him close, again, as he craved to. His hunger for holding Will like this was beginning to override his other primal hunger, the one that gnawed at him at all hours of the day. “You were as wasted on your former Masters as the most exquisite kyber crystal would be wasted if given to a bantha,” Hannibal said. “They could not understand you, they could not imagine a use for you, and so they stepped on you as they left. That does not mean that you are without value.”

Tangled up in Hannibal, Will wrapped every limb he could around his Master, holding him as he was held, comforting where he was comforted. They were just alike, identically different. “You see my worth where others see garbage. I see you with your diamond veneer, where others see shab with your person suit.”

“My person suit?” Hannibal asked, intrigued. “What do you imagine I’m hiding beneath it, Will?”

“You’re kind and respectful to everyone, even those above you, but you have a glimmer of something else, the bit of you that wants to nonconform. The bit that drinks wine, and indulges with all the senses, including of someone else body. You’ve laid with others, men included. They don’t know that. It’s all hidden under a perfectly constructed suit.”

“And here you are, Will, plucking at my seams,” Hannibal whispered. If anyone else had dared to say even that much, Hannibal would have killed them: quickly if he liked them, and elaborately if he did not. But Will beginning to strip back his layers only made him smile.

“I won’t lie. I hope to see your perfect self under all the polish and veneer,” Will whispered back and leaned his head against Hannibal’s, straddling him with his strong thighs. “I want you to be as comfortable with me as I am with you.”

Heat rushed through Hannibal when Will straddled him, and one of Hannibal’s hands moved to the top of Will’s leg as they lay together in a hot, steamy limbo between friendship and much more. “I am more myself with you than I have been with anyone, Will, since I was a child.”

“But there’s more. A bit, hidden under a veil, hiding. I can be patient.” Will nestled in closer, arms around Hannibal’s shoulders, gazing at him. “When nothing is between us, we’ll be truly conjoined.”

“When nothing is between us, acceptance will have become saturated with meaning. My acceptance of all of you, your acceptance of all of me will bind us together, completely,” Hannibal murmured, and traced the curve of Will’s human spine through his robes with one hand. “Until then, we are, both of us, stripping very slowly.”

A heat not like the wanton sort rose through Will’s core, heating him within, a sweat gleaming on his brow. “Exactly. I know you hide pieces of you. I hope to strip the last layers away someday.”

“What do you imagine you will find, Will?” Hannibal asked, as a flush crept down his own throat, to his chest where it was hidden by the white shirt he wore.

Will put one hand over Hannibal’s heart, a drop of sweat sliding down his neck. “The very essence of your being.”

“Are you certain you’re prepared for that?” Hannibal asked, his chest rumbling beneath Will’s hand when he spoke.

“I hope to be, soon,” Will whispered, curling his fingers over Hannibal’s heart, remembering quite vividly how his Master’s chest looked bare of clothing.

“Yes,” Hannibal whispered back, more cognisant of the changes inside Will than Will was, “soon.”

The dark of Will’s eyes were blown wide and dark as he hitched himself just a little closer. He took a deep breath, he trusted Hannibal beyond anyone else. “Okay…”

“You’re learning, growing your understanding everyday, Will.” Hannibal’s breath stilled when Will hitched himself closer, and he ran his palm down the back of Will’s neck, able to feel the sweat.

Will figured he was still healing, that his body was working hard, and sweat was being built up for it. “If only I could catch our Sith.”

“You’ll uncover him, soon enough,” Hannibal promised, and stroked his fingers through Will’s hair. “I am certain of it.”


	6. Chapter 6

Only another day passed until they heard from Master Crawford once more. Will’s wounds were angry and pink, slowly healing, but the scars would be gnarly and raised, mean looking, for years to come. Hannibal looked to be healing up as well, though Will kept an eye on him even if the Master insisted he was just fine.

This time, Jack arrived at their door, unannounced, his face set in a grim expression. “We’ve got a problem.”

Rubbing his eyes, Will raised his brows, as though it could be anything else but a problem. “A bigger one, I assume, since you’re here.”

“Honestly, I don’t want to use a comm for this,” Jack said. Hannibal stood behind Will, concerned.

“What’s the matter?” Hannibal asked, and offered Jack a seat, then moved to pour a cup of tea for the Master.

“Another Jedi, Master Raccu, was found this morning. This time, in the _temple.”_

Will’s eyes went wide, and he looked back at Hannibal. They’d had a meeting of minds the night before over Will’s past training, and few of his former teachers were mentioned, Master Raccu was one of them. “In the temple? How?”

Jack was very still for a moment, centering himself before he sipped his tea and answered. “We don’t know how Ravenous entered the temple. There is no trace of him that we can find, but this looks like his work.”

“Do we have footage?” Will asked, pacing the floor just by the couch, unable to stand still after the news.

“No. The security systems are blank, not _off_ , the entire system stopped functioning just before Raccu’s death,” Jack let out a long sigh, disturbed.

“Definitely the work of someone who knows how the systems work can manipulate them.” Will sighed, pausing, hands clasped in front of him. “Can we see?”

Jack pulled out a small screen from his pocket and handed it to Hannibal and Will. Footage played of the entrance to the temple at night, and then everything became white and stayed that way.

“Nothing,” Jack said, with a frown.

Will frowned too, brows furrowed in deeply. “Are… we able to go see the body?”

“Yes. We’ve been trying to keep this from, the younglings, but I’ll walk you in myself,” Jack said, and stood, ready to go.

Will got his boots on and grabbed his cloak, waiting for Hannibal. “Is… the scene awful?” Will wanted to prepare himself.

Jack gave Will a flat, blank look, then looked away. “Awful doesn’t come close.”

That was enough for Will to steel himself for what was to come. “We can take our ship and meet you there if you’d like. Or you can fly with us.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Jack said, and let himself out, obviously in no mood for social niceties.

Will wanted Jack gone for a moment to collect himself before they left. “I didn’t think he’d be the next one. I guess it was only a matter of time until he went after the Masters.”

“You seem shaken,” Hannibal observed. “I know we spoke of him, only last night…”

“It’s much closer to home, now.” Will sighed, not that he ever liked his old Master, but no one deserved a death like that, even if they hadn’t seen what was done to him just yet.

“I never imagined we’d find a victim in the temple itself,” Hannibal said, as they boarded the ship together. “It seems impossible.”

“But not improbable. It’s unfortunate, and only proves we need to look at tighter security,” Will said, starting up the ship as he took a seat. “It… honestly, he could be anyone.”

“What are you implying, Will?” Hannibal asked, head tilted at his Padawan.

Seriously, Will looked over at Hannibal, grim. “Someone knew how to get in. That leaves very few possibilities.”

“A Jedi?” Hannibal asked, watching Will begin to unravel the puzzle left for him.

 

“A Jedi?” Hannibal asked, and watched Will begin to unravel the layers of the intricate puzzle left for him to solve.

“Yes.” Will looked at Hannibal, biting the inside of his cheek. “Hard to believe, but the Sith are masters of deceit. It’s not surprising.”

“Enough to fool an entire council? Every Jedi in the temple?” Hannibal asked. “That is deceit of an unusual degree, Will.”

“But are we talking about the usual Sith?” Will asked, flying them off toward the temple.

“Decidedly not,” Hannibal murmured, as he watched Will near their destination. It was a pleasure to watch Will inch nearer and nearer to the truth, to watch his deft and clever mind begin to see what no other Jedi had seen. Strangely, Hannibal enjoyed it, even if it would unmask him. “What did you hope to find on the footage you asked to view?”

“Anything, something. I want to see if it’s our Wendigo Sith,” Will answered, landing their ship on the port for the temple.

“I have a distinct feeling that the crime scene itself will tell us enough, judging from Jack’s reaction,” Hannibal said. “At this point, we are more experts come to differentiate an original work of art from a forgery.”

Will nodded. He might not need the footage, but he needed something to be sure. He stepped off the ship, resisting the urge to reach for Hannibal's hand as he waited for his Master. “That’s true.”

Hannibal felt the urge as he would feel an actual touch of Will’s hand, and his fingers curled around the impulse, holding it, instead. “Are you ready? Jack is not a man who is easily shaken.”

“Not really,” Will breathed, able to feel the mental grip on his fingers, and curled his own around it. “But… maybe it’ll be a nice reality check.”

Crawford met them at the doors of the temple, with a thousand-yard stare that broke only long enough to acknowledge them. “The council knows, no one else. Don’t breathe a word to anyone,” he warned them, and then lead them into the temple where life appeared to go on like it always did. Younglings worked on levitating cushions in a large room to the right of the hallway, older students learned to duel with sticks in a room to the left. Around a large and empty lecture hall, however, a few more of the members waited for Will and Hannibal’s arrival, all of them silent and ashen-faced.

Will had smiled at the kids and then entered with Hannibal, side-by-side, into the classroom. He wouldn’t say a word, he wasn’t a gossipy sort of person, unlike some of the council. They entered, the room engulfing Will all at once with a haze of darkness, permeating his senses and sight, until all he saw was black as if it had gone right into him, consuming him from within. As if he was being suffocated by it, Will dropped to his knees, choking on what seemed to be something invisible. It was all just… too much, too consuming.

Hannibal knelt next to Will, and rubbed his back, trying to help him breathe. “Will,” he whispered, “focus on my voice. Focus…”

“Sorry-” Will gasped, grasping Hannibal’s shoulder with his fingers, tight enough to leave bruises as he pulled himself to his feet. The darkness in the room was too much, and only he seemed to be too consumed with it. “I’m… I’m okay.”

“Are you certain? There is no rush,” Hannibal reassured his padawan, standing between Will and the sight at the front of the room.

“I’m fine.” Will collected himself, having not even seen the sight yet, but he knew he would have to. This was the most the Sith Lord had left behind for them--for _him_.

“Are you ready for me to step aside?” Hannibal asked, quite seriously, but softly, giving Will a moment to catch his breath. “Jack was right. It is … intensely disturbing.”

Will nodded his head, using Hannibal to ground himself. “Sorry. Yes. I’m ready. I…” He’d explain later.

“I understand,” Hannibal nodded, and stepped aside, slowly to reveal the scene of Master Raccu’s demise. Master Raccu’s body had been arranged in three layers. The first layer, closest to the board upon which lessons were written for the class, was nothing more than the hollowed out pelt of his skin and hair, which was stretched into a spread-eagle position by several nearly invisible threads. The skin had been cleaned of muscle and fat and flattened out to show just what a girthy man Master Raccu had been in life, a fact Raccu hid, rather infamously, with a girdle beneath his robes. In front of the opened pelt was another layer. Master Raccu’s skeleton had been removed from his body and was suspended with more wire. The bones had been scraped clean until they were perfectly white, and arranged in anatomical position, all of them separated an even distance to allow the audience of the murder scene to look inside all of Raccu’s joints. Finally, on a lectern in front of the skeleton, was Master Raccu’s brain. His brain had been removed, cleanly, stripped of its meninges, and broken apart into various lobes, then set upon the lectern in neatly arranged sections to allow the viewer access into the Master’s most intimate organ. Will took a minute or so to take it all in, walking around every last bit. It was hard to see his old Master in the work of art before them. “Brutally killed and displayed obscenely, only fitting for a man who loved to rip apart his students,” he whispered, darkly.

“Could this have been a former student of Master Raccu’s?” Hannibal asked as he followed Will, watching him experience the result of Raccu’s slaughter and dismemberment.

“Could be.” Will gave Hannibal a look with that, as though he didn’t want the Masters to assume something like that just yet, not with Will so soon under Raccu’s belt of teaching not so long ago. “Someone was definitely making a point.”

“What do you perceive to be the point he was trying to make, Will?” Crawford asked, from the doorway, willing to stand the sight of the display a second time. Barely.

“Someone tore him apart the way Master Raccu tears everyone else apart when they aren’t on his level,” Will explained, not looking at Jack. “Well, our Sith did. I feel his energy here ever-present as the last scenes. Could be… an older student of his, or someone who worked alongside him and never cared for his habits and ways.”

“You’re … sure this is a Jedi’s work?” Jack asked Will, with dread thick in his tone.

“Sith. Not a Jedi. Not anymore. He parades around as one though, showing off his talents as a Jedi and everyone believes him. He’s right under our noses,” Will said, without meaning to, it had just… dawned on him. “It’s amusing to him.”

“Amusing?” Jack asked, almost breathlessly, then looked at the remains of his flayed colleague, and back at Will. “I need more, Will. How old is he? How do we catch him?”

“Older than he seems,” Will murmured, frowning when Jack seemed to be getting upset. “I… I don’t know how to catch him. His mind is traveling many different paths at once. All I feel here is darkness and… sadness.”

“Sadness? First he was lonely, Will. Now he’s sad?” Jack demanded, becoming unsettled as he paced back and forth, like a bull, while Hannibal watched from the side.

“Even dark people can be sad and lonely, _Jack_ ,” Will said with a seething, pent-up annoying that seemed to boil under his child-like veneer. “Our Sith is no different. He’s being protective of something now. He wasn’t before. Before… he was showing off, now he’s trying to keep something.”

“So what’s he trying to protect?” Jack asked, snapping back at Will.

Taking a deep breath, Will took in every last distinctive feeling he could in the room, his eyes meeting Hannibal’s for a moment and then he looked at Jack, a fleeting feeling in his bones. “Someone he’s not meant to fall in love with.”

A ringing silence filled the room. Even Hannibal looked shocked at the revelation. Jack stepped back, staring at Will. “He’s fallen in love. Neither the Sith or the Jedi are supposed to love…” he reasoned.

“No, I think Sith can. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? They are opposite of us. We can’t love, but they certainly can. And he does, deeply. Someone Master Raccu has offended is likely the person he’s in love with.”

“A _man_ he’s in love with,” Jack said, after a moment’s thought. “He’s in love with a man, after what you said about the florists…”

“Yes. Forbidden as it comes.” Will swallowed, feeling as though the sith himself were watching his every movement at that very moment.

“Will … think very carefully about what it is you’re telling me,” Jack said under his breath as he looked at the wide-eyed padawan with a penchant for bending rules.

Will shifted his jaw and squared his shoulders, not at all liking the way Jack was looking at him. “You have asked for my opinion, my thoughts on this. I’m telling you what I feel. You can ask someone else.”

Jack looked from Will to the displayed body, and then back at Will. “Take all the time you need,” he said, and walked out of the lecture hall with a troubled look on his face. Hannibal stared after Jack, then looked at his student, worried. “Perhaps we should return home, Will.”

“Good idea.” Will took up step next to Hannibal, not at all liking the way Jack at looked at him when he left. “I… don’t have a good feeling about being here.”

Hannibal nodded, hand on Will’s back, and led him out with a last look back at the demonic tableau. Jack watched them leave, from the other end of the hall, his eyes following Will all the way to the exit. “Don’t look back,” Hannibal whispered to Will as they stepped outside.

Dread overcame Will all at once as they walked to the ship, their pace quickening.He kept his voice down as they boarded the ship, “Why do I get the feeling that Jack thinks I’ve done this?”

Hannibal closed the door with a wave of his hand and walked Will to the passenger seat, sitting him down before he took the controls, expertly, and flew them away from the temple. “I wish I could reassure you that you’re imagining things, Will. However, I was left with the same unsettling impression.”

“What do I do? I’m not a Sith!” Will swallowed hard, eyes wide, starting to panic. “Hannibal…”

“Remain calm, Will. I know, better than anyone, that you’re not a Sith,” Hannibal assured Will as he flew, and turned their options over in his mind. “We cannot leave Coruscant. That would make you look guilty of these crimes in a way that would be nearly impossible to repair.”

Will leaned over, head in his hands, pulling at his curls, stressed. “I haven’t done anything. I haven’t killed anyone. It’s not possible. I’m not capable of any of that.”

“I’ve been with you nearly the entire time, Will,” Hannibal pointed out, and reached over to Will, touching his shoulder to comfort him. “I’m more than willing to speak in your defense. Master Crawford is desperate to find someone guilty.”

“I should have never helped.” Will wrung his hands together in his lap as they flew back home, unable to settle. “I… I can’t go to holding.”

“Will, it’s possible that Master Crawford will discuss these matters with Master Yoda and see that he is wrong,” Hannibal said, as they landed outside of Hannibal’s house. He set the ship down and turned to face Will, taking Will’s hands.

“What if Master Yoda thinks I’ve done these things?” Will’s mind was reeling, he should have seen this coming; he’d been set up.

“I am certain that Master Yoda will see the truth. You did not kill any of these men,” Hannibal reminded Will, and sighed, then pulled Will into his arms to try and calm his shaking body. “I am your alibi, Will. You have been with me the entire time. You could not have killed Master Raccu, nor any of the others.”

“What do we tell them? I’ve been sleeping in your bed all night? That’s how you know?” Will asked, letting Hannibal hold him, his larger frame engulfing him.

Hannibal’s arms went still, then tightened around Will, slowly. “Come inside, Will. We’ll decide on a course of action. Sitting in the ship will not help calm your nerves.”

Will nodded and stood. He took a deep, deep breath, and walked off the ship toward their abode. He waited for Hannibal to open the door, more than aware this might be the last time he did.

Hannibal opened the door and walked in with Will, then shut and locked the door behind them. For a moment, he and Will just looked at one another, stunned. “What motivation might a killer have for leading investigators to themselves, Will? Your best defense may be how well you implicated yourself in these crimes.”

“That’s… true.” Will shrugged off his cloak, but kept his boots on. He reached for Hannibal, wanting their closeness and comfort. “Why would I--if I were the killer--do that.”

Hannibal pulled Will to him, under the cover of his dark cloak, and embraced him tightly, against his chest. “There is no rational reason that I can derive,” Hannibal agreed. “If you were the killer, you would take the position that you were given to lead the investigation away from you, to someone else. At least that reflects a natural desire for self-preservation.”

“Master Crawford wouldn’t though. He sees what he wants.” Will hugged Hannibal tightly, as though it were the last moments he would have with him. “I hope Master Yoda has better insight. How could a padawan like me really be a sith lord?” Will looked up at Hannibal, sea-blue meeting amber.

Hannibal sighed, heavily, and cupped Will’s face with both hands, staring into his eyes without words for a long moment. “I don’t want to be parted from you,” he said, honestly. The truth of it hurt, registered deep in his gut where only the instinct to consume had ever registered before.

There was a heavy resonating there with that. Will tilted his head up, swallowing down the hard lump as he gripped Hannibal’s waist, fingers digging into trim muscle. “I know it’s against the rules, but I don’t want to be away from you either. I feel that deeply in my every fiber of me.”

Hannibal moved closer and rested their faces together. The dye was cast. Jack suspected Will, there was nothing Hannibal could do now that would undo Jack’s suspicion without revealing himself, and in that event, they would still be parted. “We could run,” Hannibal suggested, in a hoarse whisper.

“You just said running would only prove my involvement.” Will frowned, deeply confused, and hurt, by it all. He swallowed once and gazed at his Master. “Where would we go?”

“My worry is making it difficult to remain as rational as I should,” Hannibal admitted, quietly, and tucked Will’s curls behind his ear.

“Then we see this out. I’m innocent, they’ll have to see that.” Will knew it wouldn’t be easy with no direction to point, but he had to trust in the Force. He pressed their foreheads together, eyes lidded.

“You believe Ravenous is in love?” Hannibal asked, nearly against Will’s lips. His pulse began to hammer throughout his body, loudly enough that he was certain Will could hear it.

“I do.” Will was on the edge of something, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt it. Ravenous was in love just as Will was in love with his Master.

Just as Hannibal was, with Will. Hannibal swallowed, as he realized the enormity of the truth. This was far from simply a profound attraction. He had fallen in _love_. He had fallen in love with the one person he should never have fallen in love with. The irony was as profound as a knife to the gut, and Hannibal wondered why he had never realized in all the times he and Will lay twisted around one another, in every possible manner, why he had never realized it before. “Yes. I believe he is…” Hannibal whispered, while his dark eyes roamed over Will’s features.

Fingers twisting around Hannibal’s waist, holding him tighter to him, Will swallowed once more and licked his lips. He’d not meant to fall in love with his Master, but there was an attraction of the mind he couldn’t resist, especially in someone who understood him. Will leaned in and placed a very chaste, barely there kiss on Hannibal’s lips.

Hannibal understood when Will kissed him how a star must have felt when it became a supernova. Shaking, Hannibal tilted his head and returned the kiss just as softly. Will grasped Hannibal closer, melding their mouths together, unwilling to let go now that he had him. Conjoining like this sparked something in him that Will never thought possible.

Hannibal pulled Will against him by the small of his back and parted his lips, his head spinning violently as the treetops in Will’s forest around the castle of Hannibal’s mind bloomed crimson with vibrant leaves and heat. Will’s lips against his own were even smoother and softer than Hannibal had imagined, and no amount of discipline or control could compartmentalize what Hannibal felt. Love was a violent emotion that refused to be contained and spilled into every room on every floor of the castle.

Every tree in Will’s forest seemed to wilt and regrow with life all at once as their lips met, perfectly melded, dark and light, fall, and winter, everything mixing harmoniously. Will never knew anything grander than the feel of Hannibal’s slightly stubbled skin against his own, their chests pressed together, muscle to muscle. His fingers crept up Hannibal’s sides, to his chest, feeling out his perfectly steady heartbeat.

“Hannibal-”

Hannibal’s eyes were black behind his closed lids as they kissed. He closed his hands in the back of Will’s robes, breathing hard. “Run with me,” he whispered, the Jedi facade fading away.

Pulling back enough to breathe, to look at Hannibal, Will gazed at his Master with a new sense of understanding. He’d known, he had to have, somewhere deep inside, all the signs showing, everything woven together perfectly. Will’s fingers inched from Hannibal’s chest to his throat, up to his jaw, thumbing over the curve. Every bit of feeling in him was torn in two, from doing what was right and safe, to doing what was in his heart.

He’d finally found someone that understood him, accepted him, and loved him in return. “Okay.”

“Yes?” Hannibal asked, with a shudder of happiness and relief. He squeezed Will, possessively, and suddenly nothing else mattered, not the Jedi, not his house, nothing but keeping Will with him. It was a deep, primal need that superseded everything else.

“Yes.” Will nodded, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s wide shoulders, keeping them chest-to-chest, hearts racing between their ribs.

Hannibal looked at Will, his eyes human again, but much darker, only flickers of copper floating in the black irises. “We’ll leave. Now, leave everything, before they come.”

“My plant?” Will wouldn’t want for much, but he hated to think of the bond with his lovely orchid going to waste, and her withering away.

“Quickly,” Hannibal said, as he let Will go, reluctantly, following Will as they hurried to the bedroom to take Will’s orchid.

Gathering the blooming plant up in his arms, Will took only that from Hannibal’s room, leaving all else that they could find anywhere else in the galaxy. They had some time before the Masters would call on Will, or so the young Jedi thought. As they went to leave, the sound of two other ships landing came through the door, blocking their exit.

Hannibal’s face became still, and serene, and he set his jaw. “I had hoped we’d have time,” Hannibal murmured, and turned to face Will, as a fist pounded at the door.

“Apparently Jack’s thought I’ve been a suspect for a while,” Will murmured, next to Hannibal. The orchid in one arm, his lightsaber hilt in his free hand.

“Jack has the wrong man,” Hannibal said, with certainty, and kissed Will again as Jack pounded on the door again, and shouted for them to open the door. “Do you still wish to see me, beyond the veil?”

Will was already aware that the killer they were looking for had been right under his nose the whole time, but at that moment, it wasn’t important. The shock would set in later. “Yes,” he said with certainty.

Hannibal nodded as the front door was cut off of its hinges by two lightsabers, and kicked in. Jack and five other Jedi stood at the door, staring at them. “Will, running is foolish,” Jack said, as he walked in, his lightsaber out, ignited.

“So are you if you think for a second I could have done any of those things,” Will said, keeping his own weapon in hand, but not ignited. “I’ve always been under the watch of the council. _Always_.”

“You’re the only one who could have done those things, Will. Come with us quietly, and there won’t be any trouble,” Jack said, all of the Jedi standing with their sabers lit. Hannibal stepped closer, in front of Will, facing Jack. “You have the wrong man, Jack.” “I know you think so, but Hannibal, you’ve become bia-” Hannibal spun the hilt of his lightsaber in his hand so that the other end of the hilt faced upward, and ignited it. A long, crimson-red blade lit, about an inch from Jack’s face. The other Jedi froze in horror as Hannibal’s eyes became inhuman, black from lid to lid, staring back at Jack. “You have the wrong man, Jack.” The other Jedi froze, waiting to see what Jack would do, their eyes no longer trained on Will, or watching him, as Hannibal became their sole focus. Will held his plant tight and lit up his saber in his free hand. He’d known, but seeing was far more believing.

One of the Jedi, and then another rushed Hannibal at the same time. Hannibal’s blood-red blade swung through the air with a blur, meeting the blades of the Jedi, the fight only lasted a few strikes before the first Jedi was cut nearly in two, and the second’s throat was cut. Both of them fell the floor in a pool of blood. Hannibal wasn’t even breathing hard. Jack attacked next, with two more Jedi while a third tried to take Will on. Will blocked the attacked, and kicked the Jedi off with his foot, and then pushed him up against the wall, pinning him there with the Force, and shoved he blade into his hip, slicing through. Twirling around, Will caught one of the two Jedi on Hannibal in the chest from behind, collapsing him to the ground, surprising even Will himself.

Hannibal smiled to himself when he saw Will’s lightsaber burst through one of his attacker’s hearts, and let the blood spatter his own face as he used the force to throw the other Jedi across the room, into a large, glass window, breaking it with his body. Jack, however, was much more skilled and managed to dodge Hannibal’s attacks. Once he could focus on Jack alone, their fight spilled into the kitchen, where Jack sliced Hannibal’s shoulder with his blade before Hannibal twisted out of the way, bloodied and angry. Hannibal began to fight in earnest after the wounding, forcing Jack into a pantry with the speed and dexterity of his sword work before he sliced Jack’s throat. Jack pulled the door closed with the force, collapsing inside the pantry, fighting for his life. “I take no pleasure in this, Jack-” Hannibal called through the door. Jack could only gurgle in reply, and Hannibal stepped back, then threw his shoulder against the door that Jack held in place with every ounce of his strength.

Everyone else dead at his feet, Will watched as the beast within his master started to shed it’s skin completely, alluring and enticing all at once. Will looked at the open door, wondering when more would come, as this was surely not over yet.

“We should just go,” Will said, voice cutting through the pounding of Hannibal’s shoulder to the door.

Hannibal stopped and turned to face Will. still black-eyed, breathing hard now. “Are more on their way?” he asked, his formerly light robes covered in drying, dark blood. “Can you sense them?”

Will nodded. Something like this wouldn’t _not_ be felt by the others. The darkness Will felt at the crime scenes was flooding him in the moment, and it would only be time before everyone else was no longer immune to Hannibal. The beast was growing.

Hannibal nodded, agreeing with Will. Escape with Will was the goal, not Jack’s annihilation. Hannibal sheathed his lightsaber and touched Will’s back with his hand as they escaped the scene of the massacre, together, and boarded their ship.

Will put his lightsaber back on his belt and set the plant inside of the ship, carefully, and then got into the pilot’s seat. “Where to?” The doors closed up behind them as Will started the take-off sequence.

“For the moment, as far away as the ship will take us,” Hannibal replied, and took his seat next to Will, still covered in blood. “In any direction. We’ll have a plan by then.”

“Outer Rim.” Will set the course, they could figure out a spot and a new ship by the time they got there.

“They’ll be preoccupied with Jack’s injuries for some time,” Hannibal agreed, and looked beside him, at Will.

“How long have you known, Will?”

“I had a feeling at the scene today,” Will said, though of course he hadn’t wanted to know at the time, hadn’t wanted to admit anything. Hannibal’s darkness had lured him in, but he wasn’t about to let it part them.

The ship left Coruscant’s atmosphere and hurtled itself into space as fast as it could, leaving the culture of the complex city-planet far behind as they sought refuge in the darkness of far space. Hannibal reached a hand over to Will’s hand, and caressed Will’s blood-stained fingers, then held Will’s hand in his own. “I could not allow them to take you,” Hannibal admitted, softly. “I was honest with you, in my own way, as much as I could be at the time, Will.”

“I couldn’t let them take you either. I suppose we met in the middle,” Will said, the ship on autopilot for the moment. He squeezed Hannibal’s hand in his own, the blood of others on this palms and fingers, covering their robes. “Not that they stood a chance with you.”

Hannibal’s dark eyes went glossy when Will said that he could not have allowed the council to take him away, and he swallowed hard, looking down. He laced their fingers together, and then looked at Will, with dark adoration. “I appreciated the help. You are a sight to behold in battle, Will. As you grow in skill and strength, we will become an even more formidable team.”

“Does this make me your apprentice?” Will asked, turning his body toward Hannibal, taking him in, wishing they had thought to at least bring a change of clothing.

Hannibal turned in his chair to face Will, and smiled at him, adoringly. “Do you wish to be my apprentice, Will? You would be my first.”

It was a strange thing to be moved from the Light and into the Dark, but what choice was there? Will couldn’t very well continue on his Jedi training now. “If you’ll have me.”

“I will. Of course,” Hannibal whispered, and touched the side of Will’s face with his own bloody hand, marking Will with the still wet residue of Jack’s blood. “You shall have to be named, of course.” Hannibal rose, and moved to the back of the small ship to open a hidden compartment in the floor. He pulled out two bundles of dark fabric with a smile, and a small, square box, and carried them back to his seat.

“A new name? A sith name?” Will watched and looked at Hannibal with a little smile. Of course, he was prepared.

Hannibal handed Will his new set of clothing and the small box that was tied with a simple black ribbon. Inside the box was a beautiful back and silver teacup, and saucer. “Do you recall the matching ritual of student and teacher, Will?”

Will opened the box with a nod when he saw the teacup inside, swallowing down the ache in his chest, an overwhelming feeling of acceptance love pounding through his veins, heart pumping hard against his ribcage. “Yes. I’m… afraid I don’t have a blank book for you.” His fingers touched the fragile looking cup, and then his gaze met Hannibal’s. “How long have you had this?”

“Since the night we discussed it,” Hannibal admitted. “I could not help but hope, and my hope compelled me to keep your teacup stored away, where I store evidence of my darkest secrets.”

“I accept,” Will said, aware he’d find a book for Hannibal when they could, but for now this was enough, considering the circumstances. He looked down at the small braid that laid over his shoulder. He’d no longer need that.

Hannibal looked with Will and laughed. “You hate your braid,” he said, knowingly. The fingers of Hannibal’s left hand turned black, and became longer, with a curved, razor-sharp claw at the end of each digit. He allowed Will to see it, this time, even to hold his wendigo hand, if Will wanted to. He was the only one in the universe, after all.

Will took Hannibal’s hand and lead it to the braid, their eyes never leaving one another’s. “I’ve always hated it,” he laughed, tilting his head to the side, permission granted for his Master to remove it, renouncing the Jedi altogether.

A simple flex of Hannibal’s finger and the braid fell to the ground between them, cut cleanly at the nape of Will’s neck. “You’re free,” he whispered, as his hand resumed it’s human disguise and brushed over the freshly shorn spot.

Will’s curls covered the spot easily, but it was a simple reminder for now of all he was giving up for Hannibal and a new way of life. Being seen and loved was far more enticing than a life of imprisonment and without acceptance.

Brushing a thumb over Hannibal’s pulse, Will leaned in and pressed a chaste, gentle kiss to Hannibal’s lips. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Hannibal repeated into the kiss, quite aware of what Will had renounced for his sake. He was deeply aware of Will’s courage. He kissed Will, again, a little more deeply, and scraped his teeth over Will’s lower lip, with care.

A thrill shocked through Will’s system, through his veins, and down his spine with the sharp touch of Hannibal’s fangs on his sensitive lower lip, moving him to set the teacup and clothes down, pulling himself instead to his feet with his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders, no space between them once more. He’d dreamed of this, never once thinking he’d actually have it.

There were no limits anymore, none of the council’s strict rules. They were alone now, they had each other, and the darkness. Hannibal kissed Will more deeply, full of passion, and parted his lips to sweep his tongue over Will’s as he held him closer, arms around Will’s slender back.

As their tongues touched, Will’s shuddered against his Master, a moan of appreciation escaping his chest, rolling through his veins and pooling in his belly with a soft gasp. “Hannibal…”

Hannibal felt electricity spark down the length of his spine when Will said his name like that, and kissed him again, backing Will up against the wall of the ship, pinning him there with the weight of his body as their tongues wound around one another. “Will-” he gasped, between kisses.

The fevered sweetness sparked in Will once more, a new sort of heat adding to it as they kissed, nosing bumping, tongue brushing as their bodies all but blurred together. Will tugged Hannibal by the hips, fingers inching around his waist and under his shirt, seeking skin he’d seen only less than a handful of times.

Hannibal’s chest heaved as he breathed deeply, and pulled his own blood-soaked robes off, naked from the waist up when he kissed Will, again, and groaned at the feeling of Will’s hands against his chest, his waist and back. Will’s hand felt out every last bit of exposed skin he could find, enjoying each and every curve of his master.

Following suit, Will removed his cloak and then his tunic, both bloodstained and unneeded now.

Hannibal laid his palms against Will’s bare, smooth skin with a soft gasp, stroking the petal-soft skin of his back for a moment before he skimmed his fingers over Will’s scars, and kissed his throat. “You have made me ache for weeks with the need to touch you.”

“Have I?” Will grinned at that, head tilted back as his skin flushed hard, dark and red, wanting more of Hannibal’s touch and lips on his skin.

“You’ve been maddeningly attractive,” Hannibal whispered, as he smoothed his palm down Will’s back, fingers strumming Will’s spine, and pulled Will along with him to a low leather bench along one side of the ship. “At one point, I was certain the council sent you for the express purpose of seducing me.”

“If they had, I never knew.” Will sat down alongside Hannibal, arm around his shoulders and then crawled into his lap as he had before on a few occasions, innocent at the time, but hardly so now.

Hannibal’s lips dropped open when Will climbed over him, and both hands skimmed down Will’s sides to his hips, and held them there, gently as he claimed Will’s mouth again. “Did you intend to seduce me, Will?”

“Yes,” Will said, decidedly. They were no longer hiding from anyone, no longer wearing the skins of those who could be shamed by a council. Will ran his hands up Hannibal’s torso, over his furry chest, raking his nails back down through the silvery forest of it.

A shaky, low moan rumbled through Hannibal’s frame at the scratch of Will’s nails and he rolled his hips upward, against the heat of Will’s groin. “You have me, body and soul.”

“And you have me.” Will placed his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders, leveraging himself with it, rolling his hips down to meet his master’s halfway with a small, shuddering gasp. Will was perfectly flushed and perfect hard under his skin, blood spoiled pants.

Hannibal moaned and palmed a hand over the bulge in Will’s pants. His heart raced at the feeling of him as he gripped Will’s cock through his pants and stroked him. Will shuddered with need, having never been touched before, and kissed Hannibal again, heated.

Hannibal arched again, and nip his teeth against Will’s lips as he began to undo Will’s pants. “I’ve wanted to see all of you for weeks,” Hannibal whispered. “You have distracted me to the point of madness.”

“You showed great restraint,” Will whispered back, kicking his boots off behind them and then stood in front of Hannibal, as if giving him the very thing he’d been wishing for, to see him, have him, anything he wanted at all. Will was his.

Hannibal moved forward to admire Will as he unfastened his pants. He kissed the smooth, flat muscle of Will’s stomach, and worked his way down as he stripped the pants off, over Will’s hips. “Beautiful,” Hannibal praised against Will’s bare hip.

Will caught the tie of Hannibal’s hair and pulled it loose, the band slipped around his wrist as he stepped out of his pants, closer to Hannibal. His limbs felt like they’d shake off, but in reality, they were loose and weak feeling. “Not disappointed?”

Hannibal ran his hands down the back of Will’s thighs and looked up at him with wide, dark eyes. “You are the most perfect creature I’ve ever seen, Will,” he assured the naked young man, adoringly.

Hannibal had been the only person in his life to have ever prided him on anything. Will grasped handfuls of Hannibal’s hair, thighs muscular and tight in his master’s capable hands. “I’m glad you think so…”

“Good enough to eat,” Hannibal whispered, and nuzzled the long, hard line of Will’s cock with his lips before he licked the tip, and drew it into his mouth.

Mouth dropping open in a gentle gasp, Will’s fingers tightly grasped Hannibal’s hair as he tilted his hips forward into the heat of Hannibal’s mouth, thighs quivering where heat bloomed from his core and dropped into the muscle there. “Oh-”

Hannibal hummed around Will at the taste of him and cupped Will’s pert, bare ass with both hands. He looked up at Will with dark eyes, hazy with lust, and sucked Will in. He initiated Will not only into the darkness of his world but the pleasure of physical touch without restriction or regulation.

Hannibal pulled his mouth off of Will and laid him down, on the bench, then leaned over him and began to drag his warm, wet tongue over Will’s balls and up his cock, then sucked him down again.

Spread with one leg on the ground, Will watched Hannibal take him down. He tugged on his hair, grasping harder with every lick and lap of Hannibal's tongue and mouth. He slowly falling into the depths of Hannibal's dark desires which pooled in his thighs and threatened to spill.

Hannibal took Will down, all the way, enveloping him in the dark, hot lock of his mouth, and hollowed his cheeks as he sucked Will’s cock on the way up. His tongue was skilled and wicked, exploiting every sensitive virgin nerve as he devoured Will, sensually.

Not wanting the moment gone too soon, Will tried to reign back the boiling heat in his veins, expelling energy through the grip on Hannibal’s hair, but to no avail. “Hannibal-” he warned, toes curling on their own accord, hips moving to meet Hannibal’s skilled tongue for more friction.

Hannibal moaned, over and over, able to taste how close Will was. He cupped the cheeks of Will’s ass, scratching at his smooth skin with his nails, and deep-throated Will’s cock twice, then let his tongue flicker over the head of Will’s cock.

Everything turned white behind Will’s eyes as his body thrust forward into Hannibal’s mouth, every last bit of friction coaxing him to the edge and right over, spilling against Hannibal’s tongue as the younger man huffed moaned.

The feeling of Will fucking his mouth with helpless lust was nearly enough to make Hannibal come then and there. He sucked Will down, and then cleaned him off with his tongue, slowly, before he let Will’s cock go, and nuzzled his hip, back heaving as he breathed. “Will…”

There’d never been anything like that for Will, and if that were just the start, he knew a long life of lascivious acts like that were in the mix. He tugged Hannibal toward him, kissing at his mouth, tasting himself.

Hannibal crawled up Will’s flushed, bare body, and nuzzled his face before he kissed him fully, and laid over his humming, warm body. “I think you’ve changed what my wine will taste like, from now on.”

Chuckling, Will wrapped every languid limb around Hannibal, keeping them skin to skin now, the closest they’ve ever been. “I hope you packed some away.”

“Of course I have, Will,” Hannibal said, with a slinky, warm smile, and nuzzled Will’s bare throat. “I am ever prepared.”

Slender fingers slid over Hannibal’s back slowly, up the tight chorded muscle, over his lower back, and then rest at the curve of his ass. Will had never felt so pleased or happily seen. “Of course. Silly me.”

Hannibal reached up with one hand and brushed Will’s curls back, basking in Will’s afterglow together. “You are radiant, Will. Every star in the sky could go out, and I would not miss them if I could have you like this.”

Any fear of abandonment or being left behind left the boy completely. Hannibal had pined after him as much as Will had pined after his Master. “I’m yours in any way you want, anytime.”

“As lovely a thought as that is, Will, we’ll have to go slowly,” Hannibal whispered. Their gazes were locked, both of them lost in one another as their ship hurtled them deeper into the darkness of space.

“All we have is time now. I don’t want to rush either.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, seven weeks later!  
> *No, we didn't cover everything here. Why? We're planning a sequel to explain what hasn't been. So if things are left unexplained, that's why. You'll have to sub us or the series!  
> *Please join us on [tumblr!](http://constructfairytales.tumblr.com) and help spread the fic around if you loved it!

While the outer rim sounded like a good idea, they came to the conclusion that it would be the very first spot they’d be looked. So, Will suggested something a little more diplomatic, and easier to hide under for a bit. Somewhere Hannibal’s regal sensibilities would be catered to and no one would bat an eye. They agreed on Alderaan, a mostly peaceful planet with tries to the Republic, but royal families of their own as well, they’d easily slip under the radar for a bit.

“We’ll have to hide the ship,” Hannibal said, as they approached the peaceful planet populated with mountain ranges and serene grassy areas, “and enter the city as tourists. I have credits that will facilitate integrating ourselves into their society, soon enough.”

“We could ditch this one and get another if we need to leave quickly,” Will suggested, dressed in his new clothes from Hannibal, dark but not outlandish.

“I think that may be wise. There will, no doubt, be caverns at the base of these mountain ranges. Our best hope is to find one large enough for the ship, and to take what we need, abandoning the craft there.”

Will nodded, understanding, and maneuvered their quaint ship mountainside, scanning for the largest opening they could manage. They’d taken the tracking off the ship and disabled it, luckily. Will found a spot and moved them in, a perfect fit.

Hannibal chuckled with admiration at the way Will had wedged them into the cave. “We’re fortunate that the doors do not open at the side of the ship, Will. We’d be unable to leave.”

Rolling his eyes, Will shook his head. “I’d find a better spot if they did.”

Hannibal was also dressed in elegant, dark robes, a deep plum that was nearly black but enhanced the bronze tone of his skin, and the amber of his eyes. He pulled a sharp knife from a drawer, and unsheathed it, then used one of the windows of the ship as a mirror, and cut his long hair with a few precise swipes of the blade. “Were you not an apprentice, you could make a living as a pilot, Will. You have an instinct for flight.”

“Thought about it,” Will said with a smile, head canted as he watched Hannibal a moment, and then gathered his things, the teacup in its box, safe. “I’d much rather be doing this with you.”

Hannibal disposed of his shorn hair, and then ran his hand through his shorter hair, which flattered his features, and made him look more like an elegant traveler than a Jedi Master. He turned to look at Will, smoothing down part of his robe. “I assure you, Will, we will find lots of time to be airborne, together. The city of Aldera, our destination, is built in the center of a great, sapphire lake. You’ll be reunited with an opportunity to fish.”

Will lit up at the thought, wondering if the past time would come back to him as quickly as it had left. He tried to fix his hair, but unruly curls left him giving up and pulling it through his fingers a few times to make himself a little more presentable. “It sounds beautiful.”

Hannibal arranged Will’s curls with his hands, shaping them into something sleeker than Will’s usual jumble, then touched his cheek. “You’ll blend in with the beauty of the planet, Will. This is apt camouflage for your splendor.”

Knowing Hannibal’s bias, Will didn’t express his concern for how wrong that was, and flushed at the touch, still growing use to their intimacy and how very open they could be with it now, even in hiding. “Thank you.” He turned, opening the door, just enough room for the ramp to let them out.

The air of Alderaan was much softer and more sweetly scented than that of Coruscant, which always carried in it at least traces of ship exhaust, no matter how far away from the underworld Hannibal lived. They walked out, and Hannibal watched Will’s first reaction to the splendid scenery that lay before their feet: seemingly endless stretches of mountain and emerald green grassland punctuated with wild grape vines, and Chinar trees that gave off the scent of fire and spice. “Welcome to Alderaan, known as the planet of beauty.”

“It really is.” The wind swept through Will’s curls as he put his satchel over his shoulder with his few things inside of it. He had little to his name at the moment, but he was living a life free of rules, there were consequences to that. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen either.”

“We’ll expand your horizons, Will,” Hannibal promised, as he admired Will’s profile, and lead him to a trail that wound around the base of a mountain.

“Did you get everything you needed?” Will asked as he was lead, keeping close to Hannibal, one hand on his sleeve, gripped tight.

Hannibal nodded and shifted the bag he carried in his other hand. “It’s best to travel with as little as possible in such a situation. Besides, there is little on Coruscant that is not found with better quality on Alderaan.

“Good point.” Will just wanted to be sure in case they didn’t make it back. He had all he needed in his satchel and on his back. He planned to try and find something for Hannibal in town. “Maybe more.”

“You have the orchid?” Hannibal asked with a little smile. “You did fight with it in your arms.”

Will offered a whimsical little smile at Hannibal and looked behind them, the potted plant floating along there. “It’s a little tough to carry down the mountain in my arms and manage my balance.”

“It looks like a dutiful pet trailing after you, Will,” Hannibal smiled, but bent down to carry it in his arms, easily. “However, levitation may lead the outside observer to, deduce that we are, in fact, Jedi.”

“We’re still on a mountain, I was going to carry it when we got there.” Will flushed, brows furrowed, too late to take the plant now. “I’ll carry her.”

“I barely notice her weight, Will,” Hannibal reassured Will, gently. “I promise not to drop her.”

Sighing once, Will let his hand drop from Hannibal’s sleeve and followed the rest of the way down the mountain. He’d already messed up once, and he needed to change that. “Okay.”

Hannibal looked back up at Will, curiously. “I am aware it’s in your nature to berate yourself for the smallest misstep, but I assure you, it is completely unnecessary.”

“I should know better.” Will shrugged, the teacup in his satchel heavy against his hip, a small reminder of the relationship they were starting to embark on together. A ground force to remind him that Hannibal saw much more in him than Will saw himself.

“On the contrary, Will. You have no reason to know better. You have lived in more seclusion than you are likely aware, surrounded only by other Jedi. Of course, you would think nothing of using your skills to move a difficult item.”

“It wasn’t difficult, just less of a hassle for the climb down. I was wrong though.” Will watched Hannibal do it with ease, after all.

“Climbing is second nature in my case, perhaps more aptly, my first, more primal nature,” Hannibal quipped as he moved through the difficult parts of the terrain with unnatural ease and grace.

Will had nearly forgotten his Master’s true form, having not seen it all in person, but enough, to know. He supposed that made sense. “And I’ve been on a city planet too long.”

“You will adapt, soon enough,” Hannibal assured Will, as he watched his handsome apprentice climb after him.

“You have a lot of faith in me.” Will smiled though, trying not to feel as though he’d failed his master already. Hannibal was right, things would take a lot of adjustment and getting used to.

Hannibal gave Will an enigmatic look, “I have more than faith, Will.”

Raising a brow in his Master’s direction, Will tilted his head toward him slightly as they descended down the mountainside. “That makes one of us at least.”

“We must think of a name for you, Will. It is easy to understand why I am Darth Ravenous, of course,” he said, waiting for Will to catch up to him, again.

Growing impatient with himself, Will shrugged. “Maybe only time will tell.”

“Time, and experience,” Hannibal agreed, admiring Will as he struggled over the terrain. “Do not forget, Will. I have had both of those things, in abundance, and the advantage of only appearing human.”

Letting it go, and just trying to keep up, Will grasped Hannibal’s shoulder to balance himself over the rocky terrain. “When _will_ I get to see your full form?”

“That is something you want to see?” Hannibal asked, surprised.

“Yes. It’s who you are. I think I should love every part of you,” Will explained, though a ball of anxious fear rose up in through him, he knew that seeing Hannibal at his truest was the biggest test of whether this would work. Will had faith.

Hannibal leaned over, closer to Will, and kissed him, softly, on the lips. Will was young and very sweet. His intentions were good, but Hannibal knew that the impact of seeing him in his raw, elemental state was not to be underestimated. “When the time is right,” he promised.

The souring mood he’d been in melted away with the kiss, reassuring and as sweet as Hannibal could be. Will wouldn’t rush. “Of course. I didn’t mean now, but someday.”

“Someday, yes,” Hannibal agreed, and kissed Will again, softly, then smiled and walked into what was becoming a green space, filled with slender trees. “I am thinking of growing a beard,” he contemplated.

“That would add to your disguise,” Will teased, but followed after, glad for the flatter ground, into the woods, much more familiar to him, if even from his past. “I think you’d look very handsome.”

Hannibal smiled back at Will, and when he did, a neat, short beard appeared on his face, in an instant. Somehow, Hannibal looked even more regal than before, like a dignitary or king of some kind, making his way through the woods in Alderaan. “Thank you, Will.”

“Oh, you meant right this second…” Will rolled his eyes playfully, finding it much easier to keep up with his companion through the thicket of trees. He reached over to rub a palm over Hannibal’s bearded face. “I do like it.”

Hannibal smiled at the touch and leaned his face against Will’s hand as they gazed at one another. “Thank you, Will. You, of course, are perfect, as you are. Happiness is enough of a disguise. The Jedi will not recognize it on your features.”

“Am I so different?” Will asked the bloom in Hannibal’s hand brightened when they were together like this. He thumbed over Hannibal’s high cheek one, contented in thought to know they could finally do this without remorse or repercussions.

“When you are happy? Like night and day,” Hannibal agreed, as he admired Will’s eyelashes against his pale skin.

“Hard to believe happiness was away from the Jedi,” Will said and leaned in for a kiss where they were paused a moment. “How did you stand it for so long?”

“I am a patient man,” Hannibal said, softly, and kissed Will back, under the shade of trees that smelled like spice in the breeze. “And I ensured that I kept a balance in my life between discipline and things the Jedi forbade that gratified me.”

“That’s what drew me to you the most, I saw that balance, I admired it,” Will admitted. “But once I got to know you, I was drawn to all of you… even that bit of darkness I tried to deny was there.”

“Not my looks? My position as Master?” Hannibal asked, curiously. People--men and women--had been drawn to him for many reasons, most of them superficial: his accent, his physique, his handsome face. Hannibal had assumed Will was the same.

“I’ve never been drawn to someone for their aesthetics,” Will explained, blinking up at Hannibal, up close. “Your looks don’t hurt though. Your power and title are a turn on, but it’s not what drew me to you.”

Hannibal thought about Will’s words for a moment. “Once again, Will, you are an exception.”

Will took the plant from Hannibal’s hands and kissed him once more, not lingering since they had a ways to go. “So you say.”

“In time, I trust you will see yourself as clearly as I see you. Until that day, it is my job to reorient you when it comes to the subject of your worth,” Hannibal told Will, and let his free hand brush Will’s as they walked.

Orchid in one arm, Will grasped Hannibal’s hand with his fingers, glancing over at him as they walked through the grove. “You _are_ patient. I’ve years of damage under my sleeve.” Will was not unaware of himself-- in fact, he was very aware, but it was harder to fix than he thought.

“It will take years to undo that damage. Very well. We have years together, Will,” Hannibal said, with an enigmatic tone.

“So long as this teacup stays together, we’ll be together,” Will insisted, not at all willing to let go of Hannibal, not one bit, not ever.

“So long as the cup remains together, so will we,” Hannibal assure Will as they came close to a road that headed to the city beyond.

“I plan to buy you a blank book while we’re here. I hope to find one, anyway.” Will squeezed Hannibal’s hand, wanting nothing more than to keep up his end of the ritual.

“I’d be honored, and I’d fill it carefully with our stories,” Hannibal replied, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

Will kept a tight told of Hannibal’s hand as they exited the trees and into the city itself, leaning into him a little bit. He curled the bloom closer to his chest in his other arm. “Where to?”

“We’ll find a hotel for now, and then obtain identification and a more permanent residence,” Hannibal said, pleased to see that no one seemed to give them a second look on the streets as they entered the city.

Couples and families of all sorts littered the streets, so their hand in hand entrance didn’t make many bat an eye at them. Will held Hannibal’s hand a little tighter. “That sounds like a good plan. I’m assuming you know someone who can do that for us?”

“I do. I have an old friend here, in the city. She’s quite resourceful,” Hannibal told Will and stroked his thumb against the side of Will’s hand as they made their way through the beautiful, well-kept old buildings with intricate architectural details. Coruscant was a city of metal and glass, Aldera was far more ancient, full of culture.

“A friend?” Will cast a glance over at Hannibal, glad to have their hands touching through the crowd, grounding him where he might otherwise try to hide away.

“Someone I’ve known a very long time. You’ll meet her, but I must warn you in advance, she’s rather protective,” Hannibal said, with a smile, and led Will up a set of white stairs to the platform of a public train that would take them to the heart of the city island.

“Protective? She knows what you are right?” Will asked, his voice hushed whisper, letting Hannibal lead him where he had no idea where they were going.

“Indeed, she does. That does not stop her,” Hannibal said with an amused smirk, and stepped onto the clean, well-designed train with Will, and took a seat with him near the window. “Her name is Chiyoh.”

Will sat next to Hannibal and held the orchid in his lap, satchel never leaving his side. “Where is she from?”

“A planet, not far from my homeworld. My sister and I knew her when we were young. Her aunt married my uncle,” Hannibal told Will. It seemed quite dull to him, but Will was eager to know everything he could. “Chiyoh is the last of my family, even by marriage.”

“Oh.” Will never knew Hannibal had such history, unlike himself with a boring past and boring family. “She’s family then, that explains the protectiveness.”

“A sort of family, yes. She owns a very well-appointed bookstore in the city center, and she is, herself, a fantastically well-read woman.”

Will had a feeling Chiyoh may not end up liking him much, but the bookstore seemed like a fascinating place, he hoped to find what he wanted to buy there. “I hope to make a good impression.”

“Chiyoh can be discerning and reserved, Will. Regardless of her opinion of you, my opinion will remain unchanged,” he assured his apprentice as they traveled, and the sun shone in Will’s hair, lighting it golden and brown.

With that, Will leaned his head against Hannibal’s shoulder with a contented sigh. “I trust you then. Does she have a lot of books?”

“You will see, shortly,” Hannibal said, charmed that Will wanted to replace his forgotten books. “I think you’ll enjoy your time in the store. Of course, you’ll have to purchase three more books to replace what you left behind.”

Nuzzling against Hannibal’s shoulder, he peeked up at him with a bashful grin. “Figured me out have you?”

“I have a feeling that you’ll keep surprising me for years to come, Will,” Hannibal murmured back. The train stopped, and Hannibal motioned that this was their stop. When they stepped off the train, they were in an even more beautiful part of the city, full of white fountains and graceful, curved buildings that stretched up toward the cloudless blue sky.

Gathering his things, Will followed and marveled up at the sky. “This almost reminds me of home, when I was a child. My dad would take me to the stream, and it was always so clear.”

“Do you miss the heat of Scarif?” Hannibal asked, well aware that the world Will had come from, and the world he’d come from were in many ways complete opposites.

“I hardly recall it. I know it was nice,” Will shrugged, petting one of the petals of his orchid, still trying to find a name for her, but it had to be as perfect.

“Did you tan, as a boy? It’s difficult to imagine on your pale skin,” Hannibal said, as they turned a corner.

“I’m mostly covered up these days, but I used to.” Will gave Hannibal a sly smirk. “I imagine it’d be easy to tan here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when we’re choosing a place to live,” Hannibal said, happily, as he imagined Will walking around shirtless if they found a home with lots of suns.

Will squeezed Hannibal’s hand at the thought, leaning into him. “I do like it here. I hope we’ll get to stay a while.”

“I think we’ll do well here,” Hannibal said, confidently. “Alderaan is a bustling planet, Aldera, in particular, is home to an influx of travelers from a variety of planets. Aldera’s inhabitants are accustomed to new faces every day.”

“We’ll hardly be noticed.” Will was okay with that, he was used to blending in and not being seen. Keeping his head down was what he did best.

Will thought he wasn’t seen. Hannibal, however, knew his apprentice was an object of admiration everywhere he went. “Provided you do not draw too many admirers,” Hannibal said, proudly.

“Hardly anyone notices me,” Will retorted, with a look over at Hannibal. “I’ll be sure to hide a little harder.”

“A hat may be necessary, to hide your curls,” Hannibal said, fondly, and nodded at an elegant storefront to their right. The sign on the storefront read: _Iron & Silver Books. _“Here we are.”

Will glared at Hannibal for that but entered the store first. “I would just as soon cut my hair.” He stopped short at the front, gazing at all the books. “Wow.”

“Your curls are too precious to cut,” Hannibal murmured and smiled at Will’s reaction to the bookstore. Will had been indoctrinated for so much of his young life that he reacted in wonder to a bookstore’s offering of unregulated information. “Good afternoon, Chiyoh,” Hannibal said with a nod of his head to a very pretty young woman who stood behind the counter.

She stared at him, in shock, and walked out to meet Hannibal. “You have left the Jedi,” she observed and gave Will a disdainful glance. “Who is the boy?” “My apprentice, Will,” Hannibal answered. “Will, this is Chiyoh. Yes, we have left the Jedi.”

Will turned his gaze from the wonders of the books and looked at Chiyoh, and held out his hand in greeting. “So good to meet you. Hannibal speaks highly of you.”

Chiyoh looked Will over and took his hand for a cool, brief shake. “We have known one another a very long time,” she said and looked at Hannibal. “You seemed unlikely ever to take an apprentice,” she observed. “Will is exceptional, in the truest sense of the word,” Hannibal explained, softly.

Bristling at Chiyoh’s coolness, Will took his hand back, holding his plant with both. He flushed at Hannibal's comment. “You may be biased.”

“You have bonded with the black orchid,” Chiyoh observed before Hannibal could answer Will.

“Yes. She is lovely isn't she?” Will touched one of the soft petals, clearly quite fond of the bloom.

Chiyoh looked from the orchid to Hannibal, and back to Will’s eyes. “Then you are Nakama,” she sighed, as though accepting an irrefutable but difficult fact.

Will raised a brow toward Hannibal. “What's that?”

“You are bonded, very close friends,” she answered, and turned on her heel to fetch a metal box from beneath a floorboard, behind the counter.

Smiling at that, Will beamed, flushed at the realization. Perhaps the other masters had been right to worry about them. He stood closer to Hannibal.

Chiyoh set the large box on the counter, and opened it, handing a leather bag within to Hannibal. “Thank you, Chiyoh. Will will require papers, of course,” Hannibal said, and she nodded with a slow, patient sigh. “He will. I’ll have them ready, tomorrow.” “We’ll come back, in the morning. Your store has become quite charming,” he said, looking around at all the books.

Will was looking at everything and picked up a leather-bound blank book, black and sleek. “I'm going to look around for a bit..” He wanted to find a few things to read.

“Select as many as you like, Will,” Hannibal said, and held an arm out to hold the orchid for now.

Will handed the plant to his Master, their fingers brushing, and set the leather book on the counter. He wandered through the shop, looking for something interesting. “There are so many.”

For some time, Chiyoh and Hannibal spoke together, quietly while Will shopped. Hannibal found himself unable to take his eyes off of Will, drawn to him.

“Does he know the story of the black orchid?” Chiyoh asked Hannibal, quietly, and seriously.

“Not all of it. Not yet,” Hannibal answered before he excused himself to look for Will in the shelves of books.

“Will?”

Will was engrossed in a book about the planet they were on when he heard Hannibal and peeked around a corner from where he was, curls in his eyes, brows raised. He hadn’t wanted to bother his master while he caught up. “Yes?”

“Have you found something you’d like to take home?” Hannibal asked, and looked at what Will was reading.

“A few. This one is about Alderaan. I thought I should brush up on it,” Will said, smiling wider the closer Hannibal got, like the man was the sole source of his happiness.

“Anything else?” Hannibal asked, quite content to supply Will with anything he wanted.

Will showed the books in his hands, a few for fun reading, too. “These. I’ll pay for the leather bound one on the counter.” He had very little credits to his name, but he knew this one thing he had to do himself.

Hannibal felt himself blush and caught a glimpse of the gift Will had selected on the counter, but tried not to stare at it yet. “Very well,” Hannibal said and paid for all of the other books.

Will paid for the leather one, giving Chiyoh every credit he had for it, just enough, and tucked it into his satchel, for now, resting it against the box with his teacup. He gathered his plant back up in his arm, and then took the books from Hannibal.

“We shall see you tomorrow,” Hannibal promised Chiyoh, who nodded at them both before the couple left together. “There is a suitable hotel a block to the left.”

“Lead the way.” Will followed his Master, dutifully, not trailing behind him, but by his side.

“All things considered, I think Chiyoh took to you rather well,” Hannibal said, as he managed to take Will’s hand, despite everything he carried.

“That was her liking me?” Will chuckled, not too sure he saw what Hannibal did, and his empathy did nothing but tell him Chiyoh didn’t like him much at all.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Hannibal chuckled. “She will adapt to you, over time.”

“If her friendship means that much to you, I’ll try to be more friendly with her,” Will suggested, knowing he hadn’t really given her much opportunity to be more than just cordial.

“Chiyoh had hoped, in the past, that if she had developed force sensitivity that I might take her as my apprentice. When she showed no signs of force sensitivity, I comforted her by saying I would likely never accept an apprentice, at any rate … and here you are.”

“She loathes me for her own ineptitude, and a promise you didn’t keep,” Will commented, his empathy making it hard not to feel a little bad for her.

“I made no promise, only a prediction that turned out to be less than accurate,” Hannibal clarified as they approached a large, white hotel that overlooked the lake upon which the city was built.

“That doesn’t change her disappointment.” Will shifted the things in his arms as they approached, letting Hannibal walk in first and then followed him.

“Regrettably, no. It does, however, explain some of the frost in her manner toward you today,” Hannibal said as they walked in together.

The lobby of the massive hotel was as white as the outside and supremely elegant, filled with natural night and large windows which showcased Alderaan’s scenery.

Hannibal spoke to the clerk for a few moments, in another language, then walked back to Will with two key passes in hand. “We are on the fifteenth floor.”

“Let’s find a lift,” Will murmured under his breath, hands full, he didn’t want to attempt fifteen flights of stairs.

Hannibal led the way to a bank of elevators and stepped inside when the shell-like door opened smoothly, for them. “I asked for a single bed. I assume you don’t mind,” Hannibal teased.

Will gave Hannibal a look over the orchid. “I don’t if you don’t.”

The look Will gave him made Hannibal’s wide chest flush under the deep plum color of his robes, and for a moment, he forgot about everything that was not his apprentice. Will had a way of stilling every train of thought in Hannibal’s mind, and bending all of their rails toward him. “On the contrary.”

Sharing space with Hannibal had given Will more confidence in the places he had none before. He knew what he wanted now. He knew Hannibal was the only other person in the universe that would ever understand him, and vice versa. Will’s core bloomed with heat, feeling Hannibal out with a smile. “I’d be much too lonely in my own bed.”

“We cannot have that,” Hannibal murmured, and leaned closer to steal a kiss. This time, his new beard scratched gently at Will’s skin when their lips met.

Will’s eyes hooded when their lips met and he smiled against Hannibal’s mouth, rubbing his chin against the coarseness. “No, we can’t.”

The doors opened, and Hannibal pulled back, slowly, then let Will exit first, following him. “We should be at the end of the hallway.”

With a soft sigh, Will walked out, and kept going until he hit the last door, hands full of all his things, he waited for Hannibal. “This place seems nice.”

Hannibal waved his key pass near the door and used the Force to open it for them. Beyond lay a suite of elegant rooms decorated in pale, ocean hues. A balcony lay outside of two large glass doors, and water stretched almost to the horizon, framed by mountains. “More roomy and elegant by far than anything offered by the Jedi temple.”

Will set his Orchid down on the bedside table and then his satchel on a chair, walking to the window to see out it, looking at the vast body of water. “It’s much nicer than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s ours, for as long as we’d like,” Hannibal said and opened the balcony door so that Will could step out, onto the large, white, curved balcony to survey the scenery below.

Walking out, Windswept through Will’s curls, his sea blue eyes nearly the exact color of the water itself. Will leaned against the balcony, rolling up his sleeves a little. “I won’t complain,” he said, with a smirk at Hannibal over his shoulder.

“You appear to be thoroughly in your element, Will. It’s as though Alderaan, in all its splendor, was designed around you,” Hannibal said, and touched the side of Will’s face with his hand.

Turning toward Hannibal, Will gazed at him, leaning into his touch as though he’d been touched starved for years. “I’ve always enjoyed the water. It’s… refreshing.”

“Strangely enough, my home planet is entirely without visible water, all of it is trapped beneath the ground which feeds trees through their deep, probing roots,” Hannibal said. “You come from a planet that is nearly entirely water.”

“Perhaps that is why we are suited for each other,” Will suggested with a whimsical grin that lit his eyes.

“Perhaps that is why your streams and rivers wind so comfortably around the stone castle in my mind,” Hannibal whispered, as he wrapped both arms around Will, from behind.

“Perhaps it is.” Will faced the water once more, leaning back into Hannibal, shoulders pressed in against his chest, comfortably fitting there, as though they were made for each other.

Hannibal leaned down, and planted a soft kiss against the side of Will’s smooth neck, and took a deep breath of his skin. “We have been waiting to find each other for a long time.”

“Destined,” Will whispered against the wind, tilting his head off to the side at the touch of Hannibal’s lips on his skin. He knew he’s never grow used to that feeling, how comfortable and exhilarating it was all at once.

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal asked, curiously. “I’m certain the food here is passable.”

“I am starved, actually.” Will turned so his arms went around Hannibal’s shoulders, up on his toes just a little to be at eye level with him.

Hannibal smiled, and wrapped his arms around Will’s waist, holding him there. “We shall have to remedy that…” he murmured, distracted as he nuzzled their faces together on the sunny balcony.

“Does out suite have a kitchen or are we going to go looking for food?” Will asked, quietly, resting their foreheads together, all but bathing in the sun.

“We can request that food be delivered to our room,” Hannibal told Will, softly. “If we’d rather stay in and relax.”

“It’s been a long trip,” Will agreed with a soft breath, in no rush to leave their room and be around more people when he could be with just his Master.

Hannibal pulled Will, gently, into their airy, white hotel room, and found a menu, handing it first to his apprentice as he removed his long, plum colored overcoat, and hung it in a closet. Underneath, Hannibal wore an almost gauzy white shirt that made his skin look burnished in contrast.

Will flopped on the bed, boots kicked off, and looked over the menu, peeking at Hannibal as he did, unable to help himself. “I don’t know these local cuisines.”

“Shall I order for you?” Hannibal asked as he looked back at Will, admiring him on the white bed with sunshine pouring down, over him, from the window.

“Or you can tell me what they are,” Will said as he sat up, making space for Hannibal to sit with him. Any reason to get close again.

“A large variety of salads, some pasta,” Hannibal said as he perused the menu. “Roast Gorak on a bed of malla petals?”

Anything at that point sounded wonderful. Will leaned in to read it, and decided he’d be adventurous. “That sounds good. I’m hoping that’s meat.”

“It is a variety of bird,” Hannibal assured Will, having decided on his own dish. He used the device at their bedside to submit their order, wordlessly, and then laid on his side, facing Will. “Their menu assured that they do not use replicators in the preparation of their meals.”

“How fancy.” Will smiled and crawled closer to Hannibal, laying down opposite of him, facing him.

“Hopefully it will be enough for you,” Hannibal mused, as he admired the beautiful curve of Will’s pink lips.

“I think it’ll be more than enough for me, the question is: will it be up to your standards?” Will asked in a teasing tone, inching closer to Hannibal, resting his hand on his hip, the tension was still thick between them.

“I suppose we shall find out, soon enough,” Hannibal whispered, and ran one hand over Will’s side, memorizing the line of his body. “I may be too distracted to eat…”

Will chuckled, a bashful grin in place across his delicate features. “Never stopped you before.” With an even bigger grin, Will crawled to get his satchel and returned with the parcel wrapped in a brown package, tied with simple string, as Chiyoh had done for him without asking. He didn’t mind. Will handed it to Hannibal, chewing the side of his cheek. “Before we continue.”

Hannibal took the package with great care and looked over it at Will as he felt his chest go warm beneath his thin shirt. He had purchased Will’s teacup for their private ritual with hope, but holding the symbol of Will’s acceptance in his hands seemed surreal. He swallowed hard, and unwrapped the book slowly, with care, and examined the beautiful leather cover and blank pages inside before he leaned over it and kissed Will, deeply, on the lips. “Thank you, Will.”

“I hope it’s suitable,” Will whispered against Hannibal’s mouth, eyes half closed as their hearts melded into one with the symbolic gesture.

“It’s beautiful,” Hannibal whispered. Will had chosen a black leather book embossed with trees on the cover, spine and back. “I accept, of course,” he whispered, and set the book behind Will, carefully, as he pulled Will against his chest.

Will wrapped himself around Hannibal, every limb tight and loose all at once. “I’m glad,” he sighed, letting his breath out slowly, and then kissed Hannibal deeply.

Hannibal ran one hand down Will’s chest as they kissed, and used his other hand to encourage the wrap of Will’s leg around him, hiking it up around his own hips. Will squeezed his leg there, arms around Hannibal in a vice grip, like maybe he’d float away if he didn’t keep him tethered to him.

Hannibal tilted his head to lock his and Will’s lips together. The feeling was already familiar, already like they had been kissing for a hundred lifetimes, and knew just how to slide together. Hannibal curled their tongues together, and the hand on Will’s thigh palmed over the muscle in his slender legs through Will’s trousers.

Will’s hips pushed back against Hannibal’s hand, the heat from his palm dripping through the cloth of his pants, spreading and warming him thoroughly throw, like a fire was igniting in his core. Every shared moment, every kiss with Hannibal, Will grew even more attached, even more in love. He moaned softly into Hannibal’s mouth, slipping his tongue against his Master’s, sealing their mouths together the deeper they kissed.

Hannibal devoured the sound that Will made, and palmed the round, high curve of Will’s ass. Will was eager and warm, beautifully pliant. Hannibal was almost overwhelmed when he thought of all their evenings of staring at one another, sitting close, lingering in every otherwise innocent touch. “Will-” he whispered, and untucked Will’s shirt.

“Hannibal-” the boy answered back quietly, more than eager to have their alone time spent exploring one another in all new ways. They’d had their minds connected for weeks and weeks, and Will patient but steadily growing ready to move into more. His fingers gripped Hannibal’s hip, skin crawling under his clothes with anticipation.

Hannibal hummed, and moved his mouth downward, to Will’s surprisingly solid jaw, down the path of his throat as he rolled over Will and rocked his hips, suggestively. With that, Will grasped the back of Hannibal’s neck, holding him there against his throat, writhed under him as he reached his free hand to the front of Hannibal’s trousers undoing them.

Will had never reached to do that before, and Hannibal’s hips hitched forward, encouraging him as Hannibal scraped his teeth against the side of Will’s throat, finding his heartbeat where it made his arteries throb beneath white flesh.

Hannibal was already hard under his trousers, straining against the fabric where Will’s hand brushed him. With diligent and curious fingers, Will reached in and palmed down Hannibal’s cock, a soft sigh escaping his chest to feel the girth and weight, feeling his own pulse between thud between his legs.

Hannibal moved his mouth back to Will’s breathing against it for a moment before he rubbed the heel of his hand against the bulge in Will’s pants, and massaged his long fingers against Will’s balls. “Good?” he whispered.

It was almost better than what they had done in the ship, so new to be touched without being too eager or earnest, but exploring each other intimately without having the Jedi at their back. Will nodded and kissed Hannibal passionately, hips pressed up into his hand as he pushed Hannibal’s trousers down his ass, fingers then wrapping tightly around his length.

“Yes.”

Hannibal moaned, deep and shaking, and pressed himself into Will’s grip as he worked his trousers off, then pulled his own shirt off quickly, over his head. He was entirely naked now, for the first time, in front of Will.

Their positions were switched, and this time Will let his eyes rake over Hannibal’s body, taking a moment to really appreciate him. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, wriggling out of his pants and kicking them off. “Better.”

“Much,” Hannibal agreed, as he looked Will over, and pulled Will against his own body. Their bodies together felt like miles of skin upon warm skin. He ran his hand over Will’s bare side, over his hip, and grasped Will’s cock once again, stroking him slowly.

Reaching even lower, Will grasped Hannibal’s balls in one hand, feeling out every bit of him he could, their eyes never faltering from one another, pupils dark with lust and want. “Every part of you is perfect.”

Hannibal moaned, and rutted his hips, then claimed Will’s mouth in a hard, steamy kiss as he rolled on top of him, his weight kept off of Will with one elbow planted beside Will’s head. “Let me,” he whispered and took them both in his hand, which allowed their cocks to rub together, slowly.

Letting go, Will’s mouth dropped open with that, gasping as their lengths slid together easily, precome slicking the way. He dragged his nails down Hannibal’s chest, loving the rough feel of his chest hair under the pads of his fingers.

“Will,” Hannibal groaned and squeezed his strong hand around them both as they rocked together. “There’s so much to show you.”

“Show me, slowly,” Will whispered, breath ragged with desire. He wanted it all at once but knew that taking it easy and slow would ultimately bring them together, unrushed.

Hannibal nodded, their noses brushing, and nipped at Will’s lower lip. “Did you like having my mouth on you, last time, Will?” he asked, still rocking them together while his hand squeezed and twisted slowly.

“Yes-” Will swallowed, every bit of him was on fire with need, rutting and writhing under his master, pliable to take and give; eager to learn and conjoin in ways he’d never thought possible.

“Would you like more?” Hannibal asked Will, with a soft smirk. “Or a variation on a theme?”

Will bit his lip. “Variation.”

“Something I think you’ll enjoy,” Hannibal whispered, against Will’s ear as his thumb brushed over the tip of Will’s cock, teasing it slowly.

He wanted to say anything with Hannibal he was sure to enjoy, but all the words that came from Will’s mouth were breathy and inaudible. He hummed, rolling his hips up toward Hannibal’s.

Hannibal smiled against the next kiss, and ran one hand through Will’s hair, tugging his curls slightly as he kissed a slow, hot path down Will’s body, his tongue pausing to lap against Will’s nipples before he kissed his stomach. “You’ll have to tell me how you like it,” Hannibal whispered, and slipped both hands under Will’s ass as he nuzzled Will’s cock, then began to run his tongue over the length.

“So far... Great,” Will managed, hefty groans escaping from his throat at very little, but his body was so wound tight he was sure he’d snap at the if Hannibal hadn’t. His hands wrenched into his Master’s hair, toes curling.

Hannibal’s hair was soft, and straight, curling around Will’s fingers as he began to suck him again, slowly. Hannibal groaned and his fingertips dug into Will’s ass, nearly hard enough to bruise as he took him to the back of his throat, right away.

Will forced his eyes open to watch, utterly stricken and in love, he never thought he’d let anyone do this, or have the opportunity. He tugged gently on Hannibal’s hair, appreciatively, stomach heaving with every sound he swallowed back down.

Hannibal worked Will’s cock over slowly and expertly before he pulled his wicked mouth off of him, and eased one of Will’s pale, slender legs over his shoulder, then swiped his tongue over Will’s balls, and sucked one into his mouth with a hum.

Fingers tugged harder on Hannibal’s silky strands, blissfully starting to fall apart as the heat began to spread through his lower back and thighs. “Oh-”

Hannibal groaned and shifted Will’s weight, moving Will’s other leg over his other shoulder, so that he was splayed open. After showering attention on both of Will’s balls, Hannibal moved very, very slowly down. His tongue traced a path over the sensitive bit of skin between Will’s balls and his entrance, and Hannibal spread Will’s cheeks with both hands before he dragged his tongue over the tight pucker between them.

Writhing, legs tensing over Hannibal’s shoulders, Will gave a passionate shout, hands furling and unfurling in Hannibal’s hair. Nothing had prepared him for that, nor did he realize just how sensitive it would be, and pleasurable. “Hannibal-”

“More?” Hannibal asked, softly, looking up at Will over his swollen cock.

“Yes.” Will bit his bottom lip, chest heaving as he watched Hannibal. “ _Please_.”

“You can be polite…” Hannibal noted, with a smirk, and sank down again to tease Will’s entrance with his tongue, playing with the virgin nerves there, wantonly, quite content to make Will shudder and arch with new sensations.

A gentle ache of pleasure resounded through Will’s loins, pulsing with every lap of Hannibal’s tongue. “Yeah…”

Hannibal’s tongue began to work Will open, slowly, and then his finger joined it, using the slickness of his saliva to introduce Will to the feeling of being penetrated. Hannibal pulled back a little, breathing against Will’s balls. “Yes?”

“Yes.” Will’s had tugged his own legs back a bit, spreading his cheeks further, wanting all of what Hannibal was offering, having never felt such pleasure in his life. He felt inches closer to their ultimate conjoining.

Hannibal loved the sight and feeling of Will spreading himself like that. Will was wanton and flushed against the bed, his skin pink and peach tones against crisp white bedding. “More?” Hannibal asked as he twisted his exploring finger just a little, just enough to make Will’s muscles flex around him.

Will squeezed, nodding his head, a sweat starting to form a light sheen on his pinkened skin. “Yes.”

“I’ll need to get something,” Hannibal whispered, and kissed Will’s hip before he stood, to walk to their bags. Bending over, naked, Hannibal extracted a small bottle from one of the bags, and sauntered back to bed with it, rewarding Will’s patience with a kiss.

Will had watched, eyes roving over every bit of Hannibal, utterly attracted to him, inside and out. “What’s that?” He laid back, still spread, curious.

Hannibal smiled to himself, charmed with Will’s innocence, and used the contents of the bottle to slick his fingers before he ran one wet finger over Will’s pucker, letting him feel the warmth and wetness there. “Something to help ease the way.”

Letting out a soft sigh, Will’s chest heaved once, the cool lubrication warming instantly inside of him. He realized then what they were about to partake in, and his heart picked up quicker. “Oh…”

“Unless you object, of course,” Hannibal whispered, as he worked his other hand over Will’s cock. “I’m a patient man, Will.”

“I want nothing else than to be one with you,” Will insisted, planting his feet, thighs spread with his hips canted toward Hannibal’s fingers. He wouldn’t beg of course, if Hannibal felt it was not time, but Will was nothing but honest.

“You are with me, Will, even when we’re apart,” Hannibal whispered, and eased his slick finger inside Will’s body as he spoke. He let it rest there a moment, so that Will could adjust,  that he could feel and savor the moment.

“We share a mind palace, I’d like to share in all things with you,” Will insisted, breathing out slowly, relaxing.

Hannibal kissed Will after he said that, with more passion, and began to finger him slowly, rocking his digit in and out of Will’s body as he rocked against Will. Everything was warm, and smooth between them, save for the rasp of hair and the sweet sting of nails where they scraped out of desperation to be close.

Will wrapped his arm around Hannibal, holding him there as they kissed, growing more and more heated as Hannibal worked him open. Will’s free hand skimmed down Hannibal’s chest, over his nipple, and down to his hip, where he grasped his cock, thumb over his wet tip.

Hannibal gasped at the touch and felt himself throb in Will’s hand as he rocked his finger inside Will’s body, then slowly, carefully added a second. “Will…” he groaned, in a husky tone, voice shaking just a little.

Biting Hannibal’s lip once, Will gazed up at his master, bearing down on his fingers as a new flush spread through him, renewing the heat of passion inside his core once more, a new spot stroked and ignited within him.

Hannibal could see the moment, in Will’s face, when his fingertips brushed the sensitive spot inside Will’s body. He did it again, and again, exploiting it just to see Will react. “Did you know that you could feel this way?” Hannibal asked, determined to make his apprentice fall apart in bed from pleasure before they even thought about eating.

“N-no,” Will admitted, toes curling into the bed, his fist gripping Hannibal’s cock tighter, desperate to get so much closer. He didn’t want to fall apart already.

Hannibal groaned at the squeeze of Will’s fist and thrust into his grip. His fingers inside Will’s body moved the same way, at the same time, and he stared down at Will with lust-dark eyes, imagining what it would feel like to join with Will, completely. “Tell me, how does it feel?”

“Like I might explode, it’s… the most intense, but pleasurable feeling I’ve ever encountered,” Will managed, jaw dropped near the end where he grunted. “Hannibal-- _Master_ \--Please.”

“Please what, Will?” Hannibal asked, breathlessly, the words that poured from Will’s lips doing as much to spur him on as Will’s tight hand and body. Hannibal’s lips brushed Will’s ear, breath warm and heavy against his skin.

“Take me-” Will breathed, clenching tight around Hannibal’s fingers, his own fist gripping his length in the same fashion as if seizing upon him. “I want to feel you.”

There was his demanding, abrasive darling. Hannibal kissed Will’s mouth, hard, and pulled his fingers free of him, then slicked his cock, generously, and rubbed it against the worked open pucker of Will’s ass. He hadn’t been prepared for how good it would feel to slip inside Will’s body, slowly, stretching him inch by inch.

Will’s arms wrapped around him, fingers digging into the skin of his back, groans resounding through his chest as they slowly melded together, mind, soul, and now body. “Oh…” He kissed Hannibal hard, gasping against his mouth.

Breathless, Hannibal moved slowly, very slowly. He slid his hands under Wills ass, breathing hard as he helped Will arch into it, and pressed his cock deep inside him with a wordless moan, and black eyes.

They breathed together, Will learning how to move with Hannibal as one fluid motion, slowly at first, arching and panting, sweat dripping down the small of his back.

Soon, their movements together were seamless, without beginning or end, one motion feeding from the last and bleeding into the next. Hannibal whispered Will’s name, over and over again, softly and feverishly as their bodies found a rhythm, together.

Will kissed the words from Hannibal’s mouth each time, sloppy and wet as they picked up a new pace, slicked skin sliding together. The heat in his core spread and coiled in his loins, threatening to spill and draw up as their minds and thoughts melded together with him, present and in their palace together all at once.

Hannibal moved Will’s legs up, so that they circled his waist, and bit the side of Will’s throat with a deep moan as he began to hammer into him, his cock rubbing over Will’s prostate every time. They were so joined at the mind that Hannibal could almost feel what Will felt, and knew Will was close. He whispered roughly and breathlessly in Will’s ear, dark words in a foreign tongue, gasping them as he felt his own body fight against tensing and burning.

Deeper and deeper, over and over, Will finally hit the final boiling point, eyes squeezed shut as stars burst behind them, his whole body tensing, muscles clenching around Hannibal’s length. He spilled, untouched, onto his creamy white skin, stomach, and chest heavy. “Hannibal-!”

Hannibal came with Will, the crescendo building between them until they both shuddered and gasped, spilling. Hannibal spilled deep inside Will, hot and thick. His strong body flexed as he grasped Will tight, gasping against his bitten throat as he shook apart, then finally relaxed. Before opening his eyes, before anything else, Hannibal kissed the tender skin under Will’s ear. “Will…” he sighed.

“Tell me you love me,” Will whispered back, his breathing calming as he took deep breaths, nuzzling his head against Hannibal’s. It was all-consuming, passionate and dark, but he felt every last inch of Hannibal inside and out. He didn’t need to see his true form to know he’d love him even still.

Hannibal swallowed, and cupped Will’s face with both hands, looking down at him. “I love you, Will,” he whispered, with wet eyes.

“I love you,” the younger man replied, hand over Hannibal’s heart. Nothing could or ever would part them now.

Hannibal’s heartbeat against Will’s palm, solidly and happily, able to tell that they were both at home, now. Home was anywhere they could be together.


End file.
